Truth or Dare
by abrynne
Summary: Story #4 - Since becoming entangled with the lives of John Reese and Harold Finch, Sam has gained many secrets. John's trust, though, is more important. A new number comes up, and Sam risks everything for the man who does the Right Thing.
1. Deal

This is the fourth and, most likely, final installment of the story of my OC, Samantha Tudin, and her adventures with John Reese and Harold Finch. It's the last one because, basically, I'm out of ideas. If I get anymore I may jump start this again.

I'd recommend reading the three previous stories before delving into this one, starting with "Dark Horse". (Don't worry, they're not very long. :P) There will be a lot of references to events and details that happened in the preceding stories in this, so be warned.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

* * *

The warmth of his hand moved up her bare calf to her thigh and over the hem of the insignificant dress to her hip. She lay on the bed in a strange room, relaxed and unfeeling as he lay down next to her.

His hand kept moving, savoring the touch of a treasure he'd won. His warmth reached her back, and the zipper of her dress. The cold hit her back, but she barely felt it. She laughed at nothing as he slipped the heels off her feet and they clattered to the floor. He kissed her collar bone and the hand, as though moving with a mind of its own, reached her neck, under her hair, and worked the clasp of the halter top of her dress. She exhaled sleepily, her vision of him blurring and coming back into focus, then blurring again.

"He's coming," said a far away voice. The words came slowly, lagging when they reached her ears and then her brain. She couldn't tell if it was in her head or someone had spoken them.

"Mm. Okay," she sighed as he moved on top of her.

"Are you all right, Sam?" the voice asked.

"'m-fine," she replied.

"You're just fine," he whispered to her and kissed her throat.

Sam felt that she should be doing something right now, but she couldn't think of what it was. Her arms rested on the pillow above her head, and her feet dangled off of the bed as he began to take her.

The thunderous noise didn't make her stir. She lay on the bed, her thoughts fogged and slow as he jumped up in response to the door that had burst open. She met John's eyes for a moment. They seemed to blacken as he looked at the room's other occupant, like a shark when it smelled blood.

"Hey, this is a private room!" he shouted as John strode forward and kicked him against the wall.

"So you can rape and murder in private?" John said in a dangerous voice. "How convenient." He slammed the man's head against the bedside table, knocking over a lamp, and he collapsed onto the floor, semi-conscious and bleeding.

"I think you got him," someone else said.

"John brought Lionel," Sam said airily into the blankets.

"Just take care of him," John growled.

Lionel took out a pair of handcuffs and bent over what was left after John's expression of anger.

The mattress sunk as John sat next to Sam and lifted her eyelids. The light was too bright and his face was blurry, but she still recognized him. "Hi John. This bed is _soooo_ comfy! You should try this bed."

John quickly zipped her dress back up and, grabbing onto her wrists, he yanked her up, flinging her upper body over his shoulder, and grabbed onto her legs as he stood up.

"Woooo!" Sam said as he turned around, letting her arms dangle. "How long is this ride? Wait, wait, wait," she said, sounding a little more sober. "Harold's in my phone and my phone is… where is it? Oh no," she said, her panic rising. "I lost Harold!" She sounded truly horrified. She cupped her hand over her ear and shouted aimlessly. "_Harold!_ Are you there, Harold?"

"I'm right here, Sam," Finch said through her earpiece.

John turned again, looking for Sam's purse. It was on the floor next to the door, along with her shoes. He picked them up and handed them back to her.

"Ah, yesh. Thankyew. John found you, Harold," Sam slurred.

"She's completely gone," Lionel said as he hefted his latest arrest off the floor, his hands cuffed behind him.

"Which is why we came here when we did," John said impatiently.

"You won't get away with this," the now handcuffed criminal said, blood dripping down his face. "My father – "

"Your father won't come to your rescue this time," John said angrily. Before he could hit him again, Lionel dragged him out of the room.

"Hey!" Sam poked John in the back. "Watch your cold hands. I am a lady after all," she laughed after she spoke.

"That fact is all too obvious at the moment," John tried pulling the skirt down and lowered his hand to her knees, holding onto her as he carried her out of the room and down the stairs.

"John," Sam whined and squirmed as he carried her. "You're jabbing into my stomach." She kicked her legs, and John's other hand grabbed her ankles and held them down.

"We're almost there," he said, pushing through the crowd in the darkened and deafening downstairs and out the front doors of the club.

Sam felt nauseated, John's shoulder poked into her stomach and her head bounced around, her hair flying wildly below her as he carried her across the street to the black sedan parked along the curb.

The world turned right side up again as John bent down and set her on her feet. The street spun around her. Sam swayed and John caught her before she hit the ground. He half carried, half dragged her to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. Sam fell onto the seat as John took off his suit jacket and put it around her shoulders. He lifted her legs into the car and shut the door.

"Back in the car," Sam said tonelessly, leaning back and closing her eyes.

"Good," Finch said to her as John opened the driver's side door and slid in.

He turned to Sam, taking an object out of his pocket. "Sam, give me your arm."

"I'll give you more than that," she said sloppily, reaching out her bare arm.

John held onto her wrist, pulled the cap off of the syringe with his teeth and injected its contents into the crook of her arm.

"Ow," Sam moaned, pulling her arm away.

John pulled at the jacket around her, attempting to cover up as much of her as possible.

"Is she all right, Mr. Reese?" Finch asked through their earpieces.

"I just gave her the shot. She should come back in a few minutes." John started the engine, glancing again at Sam, and pulled onto the street.

Sam sighed contentedly and rested on her side on the seat.

"How are you feeling?" John said after a few minutes.

"I may puke," she said, sounding more like herself. "But other than that I'm okay. My head feels... clearer."

She kept her knees together and pulled at the skirt of the tiny, green halter dress, but it didn't move. John glanced at her legs. "I didn't think you were going to drink it," he muttered with agitation.

"I wouldn't have been able to fake being roofied, John," Sam reasoned. "Besides, I knew you would be there before anything drastic happened."

"Not soon enough," John said quietly.

"How is Rachel?" Sam asked sleepily, purposefully changing the subject.

"She's fine. She's with Harold."

"I dropped her off at her mother's," Finch chimed in. "She and half a dozen other women will be filing charges in the morning. It looks like Rachel would have been his first murder if we hadn't intervened."

Sam nodded, satisfied. "So it worked. That's always a good thing." She smiled into the headrest and pushed her arms through the sleeves of John's jacket. The cuffs came up to the top knuckles on her fingers, but it was warm and smelled good. She sunk down into it and closed her eyes.

"You should tell me where we need to go to find the rest of that dress," John said seriously.

Sam lifted her head in protest. "Harold said that I had to slut it up!"

"I said nothing of the kind," Finch said in their ears.

"Well, no – you didn't say those exact words, but that's what you _meant_," Sam continued. "This guy was following Rachel for weeks and already got to her once before. We had to be drastic in order to make him switch to someone else in a few days." Sam started laughing softly. "If it makes you feel better, John, you can borrow one of Eva's dresses and be the decoy next time. I'd be happy to do your makeup."

John's mouth twitched. "That's Eva's?" John glanced again at the skimpy, green monstrosity they were defining as a 'dress'.

"It's from her single, partying years," Sam explained. "It fits her a little better too," Sam squirmed in her seat.

"That thing doesn't fit anybody, Sam," John said with finality.

They reached Sam's apartment building, and John walked her up. She was more stable, but needed his steady hand to put the key in the lock of her front door.

"Thank you." She stepped in, turning on the light in the front room. "Do you want to come in for a minute?" She asked out of courtesy, and the idea of keeping John around while she was in such a strange mental state seemed appealing at the moment.

John smiled a little. "I'd better not. Get some sleep, Sam."

"You too. Oh, your jacket," she started pulling it off, but John kept it on her, buttoning one of the buttons.

"Hold onto it, I'll get it later. Goodnight, Sam," he said, rubbing his face and stepping away from the doorway.

Sam watched him walk down the hall and into the stairwell before she closed the door. She hung up the call to Finch and took out her earpiece. Dropping her shoes and her purse onto the couch, she walked to the window and watched John step out of the building and across the street.

"That isn't quite your style, is it?"

Sam twitched around, and regretted the movement. Her brain sloshed around like an adrift pile of seaweed and her stomach lurched in protest. She grabbed onto the windowsill for support as she blinked and squinted into the kitchen.

Carl Elias along with the man Sam had nicknamed Scarface stood in the darkened kitchen. They'd been waiting for her. Elias was indicating her dress.

Sam dove for her purse and pulled out her gun. She pointed it unsteadily at the two men. Scarface also drew his weapon, but Elias shook his head only once, and the sidearm was put away. Sam, however, didn't feel as comfortable and kept her weapon trained on them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

Elias turned the light on in the kitchen. "Put that away, Samantha. No one wants to get hurt."

Sam hesitated, her eyes moving from Elias to Scarface and back again. She lowered her gun, but kept it in her hand with the safety off.

"That's a little better." Elias stepped out of the kitchen and sat down on the couch next to Sam's purse. "The small hours of the morning and you're just getting home, Samantha? A big date tonight?" Elias's eyes moved down the dress and back up again. "I can already tell he's a gentleman, giving you his jacket to keep warm." He smiled pleasantly.

"No. I was… I was helping John with something," Sam explained curtly.

"Ah, yes, the hero and his loyal sidekick," Elias said with a smile. "How are you enjoying that?"

"What – do – you – want?" Sam said through clenched teeth.

"I told you I would check up on you," Elias explained. "I wanted to see how things were coming on your end of our deal."

"The deal is off," Sam snapped. "You didn't hold up your end at all! John nearly died that night, and I know you were behind it."

"I had nothing to do with – "

"You sicked the CIA on him!" Sam shouted.

"They came to me with questions, I answered them. Am I the one to blame for their actions?"

"Yes. We had an agreement, and the first chance you have to get John out of your hair, figuratively speaking of course," Sam's eyes flicked to the top of Elias' smooth head then back to his face, "you take it. And it wouldn't have cost you anything, would it? None of your money, or your peons. You just decided to let someone else do your work for you." Sam paused, as though waiting for a response. She didn't get one. "I'm not doing anything for you. You had your chance, and you screwed it up."

Elias observed Sam for a moment, a mildly interested expression on his face. "I can understand why John keeps you around. You are a very intelligent woman, Samantha. I might try to get you on my side of things."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, let's see you try."

"No, I don't think I will. You are already very dedicated where you are, aren't you?" Elias' voice softened, making him feel even more dangerous.

Sam flared up at his meaning, his allusion to her feelings for John. The gun came back up, pointed at his forehead. "Get out."

Elias nodded to Scarface and stood. "Do you think that I'll just accept this as a loss and walk away?" Elias quietly asked. "You are becoming more like him, Samantha. But you are still very naïve. And quite valuable… to some of us."

Sam cocked the weapon.

Elias lifted up his hands in peace and walked towards the door along with Scarface. They let themselves out. Sam ran to the door once it shut and locked every lock it had.

She put the safety back on her gun and put it in her purse as she collapsed onto the couch, her hands shaking from the rush and fear that had come over her.


	2. Mixed Signals

"Mr. Reese, you will wear a rut into the floor with your pacing," Finch said dully. "You should be concentrating on our new number. I can handle this." He adjusted his glasses and glanced up at John.

He knew John was going nowhere. There were too many questions he wanted answered. And, Finch suspected, he was worried. It was an emotion he almost never witnessed in John, and it concerned him. John kept walking slowly but steadily back and forth in front of the desk.

They heard footsteps on the stairs outside the office and John stopped his pacing. Instead, he leaned casually against the wall as Sam entered HQ. She hesitated as she walked toward them, seeing them there, waiting for her.

"I'll have to get your jacket to you tomorrow," she winced at John.

"What happened?"

"Remember last night how I said that I might puke?"

John swallowed and nodded his understanding.

"Another name has come up, Miss Tudin," Finch said casually.

"Who is it?" Sam said, taking the seat next to the desk.

"Before we delve into that, there is a little matter we need you to clear up for us first," Finch said, still keeping his tone friendly.

Sam lifted her eyebrows. She truly didn't suspect what was coming next. Finch selected an audio file on the computer and pressed play.

_What the hell are you doing here?_

_ Put that away, Samantha. No one wants to get hurt… That's a little better. The small hours of the morning and you're just getting home, Samantha? A big date tonight? I can already tell he's a gentleman, giving you his jacket to keep warm._

_ No. I was… I was helping John with something._

Sam and Elias' voices filled the room, and Finch watched as Sam's face drained of all its color, and her mouth opened in shock and fear. He stopped the playback.

"I suppose you can understand what our concerns are," Finch said flatly.

Sam turned to John, who couldn't have looked surlier if he tried. She got to her feet. "You bugged my _apartment_?" she said as she approached him. "When did you do it, John? When you knew I was gone, or did you just wander in when I was asleep?" She ended the last word with her hand flying. John put up his arm and grabbed a hold of her wrist a moment before it would have touched him.

Furious, Sam moved again, her fist to his stomach, which John blocked. Finch stood up when she lifted her knee between his legs, but John was ready for that as well. Placing his leg in between hers, he twisted and Sam lost her balance. John went down with her. She landed on her back, and John landed neatly, kneeling over her, his arm pinning her across her shoulders like an iron bar.

"John! Stop this now!" Finch shouted nervously.

"Not until she gives us something useful, Finch," John growled.

"Look at her, she's terrified."

"She should be."

"I didn't know he'd be there!" Sam cried from her position on the floor. "Harold, please, I'd never give you away. You know that."

John looked up at Finch, a fire behind his eyes. Finch sighed and handed John a piece of paper. He held it in front of Sam's face.

"Do you recognize this? I found this in your apartment the day after the pier."

"It was also our reasoning for surveying your apartment," Finch added.

Sam nodded right away. "Yes. It was slipped under my door. I couldn't tell you about it because – because – "

"Why?" John said darkly.

Tears rolled down the sides of her face, into her hair, but her eyes were wide and locked onto John's. "When Elias kidnapped me, he told me that I was bait for you." Finch slowly sat back down, bracing himself for another explosion. "I believed him. He said that you've interfered too many times, and he let you live long enough. He was going to kill you when you came to get me."

"Sam, there was one man that morning. One little man there. Your story has a few holes."

"Let me finish, you stupid _jag_," she snapped at him, squirming under his grip. John pressed down harder and she stopped.

"I… asked him to let you live. I didn't think he would. And I didn't realize it until I woke up that day, when you told me what happened. That's what the phone call was, John. In the car with Harold. It was Elias. He said that he always calls in his debts."

"So he spared John as you asked, and in return he would ask something of you later," Finch finished the story easily.

"That's it. I swear on my parents' graves, John. I would never purposefully hurt you or Harold. I thought I was doing the best thing."

John held her down a moment longer.

"Please, John. I swear. The note came that day, before the pier. I met with Elias, and he gave me the terms of our agreement. But I had no idea that you were _following_ me! Somehow, he knew that you would. Come on, John, I think you're bending my collar bone." Sam inhaled sharply from the pain.

"Mr. Reese," Finch said firmly.

John sat up and got to his feet. His expression hadn't changed, but he offered Sam his hand, which she slapped away and got up herself.

"What was the agreement, Sam?" Finch asked.

Sam sat down next to the desk, ignoring John completely now. "I'm not going to try to do it for him. If you listen to the rest of that conversation, you'd know that." She pointed at the computer.

"What was it, Sam?" John said.

Sam sighed and wiped her face. Finch pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it and dabbed her eyes. "Elias wanted me to find out about your source. The source you use, that knows about the murders before they happen. If I got that for him, he would continue to leave John alone. I didn't tell you because his name had already come up by then. Someone was planning to kill him, and I wanted to prevent one of the risks."

Finch exchanged a look with John.

"Why in the hell would you make a deal like that?" John said, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he felt a headache coming on.

Finch saw the fear again in her eyes when she glanced quickly at him, then at her lap. He understood.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not going to do it." Sam said angrily and stood up. "I think I'll just sit this one out. You guys can handle whatever it is without me anyway." She laid Finch's handkerchief on the desk and walked toward the stairs.

"Sam," John said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Sam reacted so fast that it even surprised John. She pushed his hand away as hard as she could. "Don't you _touch_ me," she said furiously, and stormed out.

John's shoulders sagged. Finch watched him deflate, deeply regretting what just happened.

"Let her go, John. I think it's time you were told everything."

John tilted his head slightly, the fire back in his eyes. "Everything?"

"So that Sam's story makes sense."

Finch selected another audio file and hit play.

_…I understand he saved your life a few months back. He saved mine as well. It was last year. I'm not surprised he never told you. I believe that debt has been repaid. _

John sat in Sam's chair as Elias' voice filled the room once again.

_That was when the Russians had a lot of power in this city, and they came after me. But I wouldn't judge him, Samantha. John didn't realize who he was saving until it was too late. _

_ It wasn't an easy decision to make. I find usually that the best decisions are made in the moment. John always manages to get mixed up in my business._

Finch stopped the playback. "This part you already know, about Mr. De Kamp and his plan to fake his own death at the charity event," he said, referring to the events of the past winter in which Sam was kidnapped by Elias and nearly froze to death in the process.

Finch moved forward in the recording and pressed play again.

_It is regrettable. John has many extraordinary talents._ Elias' voice continued.

_If you hurt him, I will kill you._

John looked at Finch. The determination and anger in Sam's voice must have surprised him.

_Interesting – the finality in the way you say it. Why would you make such a promise?_

Finch waited with John through the silence. Sam didn't answer.

_Ah, I see_. _You're in love with him._

Finch watched John closely. There was no visible reaction to the confession. He remained stiffly in the chair, his elbow resting on the desk, his chin in his hand, covering his mouth.

_I can understand that, I suppose. _Elias continued. _John is charming in his own way. But how can you say that you know him at all?_

_Whether any of that is true or not, it doesn't matter._ Sam's tone was flat, but there was strength behind it.

_Because he doesn't love you back?_

_ No. Because he can't – he won't. He'd never let himself._

John closed his eyes for a moment as he listened.

_So you're happy with what you can get._

Finch let the recording play through Sam's final plea for John's life when she mentioned Elias' mother, and how it would have been if someone like John had been around and was able to save her.

John listened wordlessly until Finch stopped the playback.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, staring blankly at the wall.

"It wasn't my place," Finch said simply.

"But it is now?" John turned to him, and Finch couldn't read his expression.

"Technically, I'm not telling you anything. There's no signed confession. However, after what just happened here, I thought it best that you were aware of the lengths Miss Tudin would go to for us, for you."

John frowned at the wall. "She shouldn't have done it."

"She didn't realize she had until it was too late." Finch closed a few windows on the monitors. "Do you think - ?"

"What's the new number, Finch?" John's segway was blatant, and Finch didn't think it best to argue. Besides, they still had work to do.

* * *

Sam rubbed her neck and shoulder where John had leaned on her. She called him a few more vulgar names in her head as she stormed up the stairs to her apartment. When she reached it, the doorway was blocked by a man, broad, well built and a little taller than she was. His eyes were a dark brown, and his hair was light, but cut short. Sam stared.

"Hey, Sammie," he said with a nervous grin.

"Okay, here is what I'm going to do," Sam said after a moment of shock. "I'm going to go in here," she pointed at her front door, "go back to bed, and when I get up, this day will have started over."

The man chuckled. "I've missed that."

"What?"

"Your crazy sense of humor. Did you have a bad morning?"

"A bit, yeah, and this sort of tops it off. Whip cream and a cherry," she said, waving her finger in the air at him.

"Come on, Sammie."

"Don't call me that."

"You used to like it when I called you that."

"Well, that's when I liked _you_, if you remember," Sam said nudging her way past him to get to the door. She pulled out her keys and glimpsed a suitcase behind him.

"What do you want, Kai?" she said, wondering how many times she'd asked that question in the past twelve hours.

"I heard about your parents," Kai said sympathetically. "Something about Scottie trying to steal from them – "

"My brother never would have hurt our parents," Sam said firmly. "He got mixed up with the wrong people, and they are the ones responsible for what happened, not him."

Kai held up his hands peacefully and nodded. "All right, sure. Whatever you say, Sammie – Sam."

"You heard about my family, so you decided now might be a good time to move in with me?" Sam's eyes blatantly moved to the suitcase and back to Kai.

Kai turned sheepish, his thick neck turning pink. "I really do miss you, Sam. And… I just got kicked out of my apartment. I need a place to stay for a few days. A week tops."

Sam wished she had her gun and John's gift for intimidation. "And this is the best place you could think of to go?"

Kai stepped closer to her. "Are you saying you hadn't missed me?"

"Haven't," Sam corrected.

"Same old Sammie," Kai said quietly, standing over her, like a well built, good-looking statue. "You never could keep from fixing my words."

"If you'd get your words right, then maybe I'd – "

Kai kissed her, pushing her up against the door. His hands found her back and moved down to her hips. Sam fell unexpectedly into the kiss. It had been such a long time since a man had willingly held her like that, strong and purposeful. Before she realized what she was doing her arms were around his neck, and she pressed against him for more.

He pulled away first and smiled that sickeningly charming smile at her. That's what got her to go out with him in the first place, that magical smile. "So you _have_ missed me," he concluded.

Sam's arms dropped to her sides, and she sank into the floor a little. "Fine. A week tops," she said, pointing her finger at him. Kai nodded and winked.

"You're sleeping on the couch," Sam said as she opened the door.

"That's fair. I'll take that as a challenge to get you to change your mind," he said into her ear as he passed her and entered the living room.


	3. Frozen

Three days later, Carter stretched and got into her car after an exhausting day of paperwork. Frankly, she'd prefer chasing down gangsters across the city to sitting at a desk, filling out forms, and checking dates. Somehow, that was much more exhausting. She closed her eyes for a quiet moment, seriously considering taking out some of her retirement and taking a two week vacation to some beach somewhere.

The back door of the car opened and shut. Detective Carter opened her eyes and glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting the striking blue eyes of John Reese, who sat in her back seat.

"If you're looking for a cab, you're in the wrong car," Carter said.

"I have the right car, Detective," John said with a small smile.

Carter sighed and rolled her eyes. "What's going on?"

John put his hand into his jacket. A few automatic alarms went off in Carter's head, and her hand instinctively twitched toward her sidearm. He didn't appear to notice as he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her.

Carter turned on one of the overhead lights and looked at the photograph. It was a young boy, maybe four or five years old, Caucasian, curly brown hair, and light brown eyes. An average, cute little boy.

"Jamie Coop," Carter said instantly.

"You've heard of him, then," John said.

"Everyone in the city who owns a TV has. Two years ago this school photograph was posted on every telephone poll and business window for miles."

"Tell me," John sat back in the seat.

"Jamie Coop was kidnapped after school two years ago. He never got on the bus to go home, and they keep close tabs on that kind of thing," Carter explained as though she was reading directly from the police report. "His mother is single, I think the husband passed when Jamie was a baby." She twisted around in her seat and looked directly at him. "What are you doing with this now?"

"I need to have any information you can give me on this case," John said. "We have reason to believe he's still alive."

Carter looked him over skeptically. "That's going to be a hard one to pull off, John. There were points when every single available officer was looking for this boy. After six months, things got a little desperate; a year, only a small group of officers was working the case. After two years, it's usually the most realistic to assume the worst has happened. It's a sad fact, but that's how it goes."

"You never found a body, though?" John asked, though he already knew the answer.

She hated when he did that. "No. That poor mother still hasn't had any real closure with this. And I am not going to let you drudge all of this up again, John. The trail is dead cold."

"I'm just asking for the reports, Detective. If anything else comes up, you'll be the first to know." John held out his hand for the photograph.

"Yeah, I've seen how that goes," Carter said irritably, handing him the picture. He thanked her and got out of the car.

* * *

Sam didn't understand what she was getting herself into when she let her ex boyfriend into her apartment. He was not the same man she knew four years before. Unfortunately, she did not recognize that fact right away. Granted, the man hadn't been much. But he had been kind, genuine, and laughed at her jokes. He never once mistreated her. They had arguments, of course, but nothing beyond shouting.

Sam dried her face on a hanging towel in her bathroom. She winced as she patted the tender spots on the left side of her face. It felt as if the entire left half of her face was swollen to the size of a watermelon. But, looking in the mirror, Sam only saw a fat lip, black and blue brow and cheek bones, and a nasty cut over her eyebrow. That's all she let him get away with once she found out why he'd really come to see her.

Sam squinted in the mirror and widened her eyes again and again. Her left eyelid was a little red and swollen as well. She touched it gently and it was a little tender.

Something had happened to Kai since she broke it off with him. Sam racked her brain trying to figure out what it was. He had become deceitful, greedy, lustful, and if it was possible, dumber. What would make a man regress – de-evolve the way Kai had so obviously done? True, he had been kicked out of his apartment. So, perhaps bad company was the answer. Although, Kai was a little old to still be influenced by his peers in such a way.

Three days had gone by and she hadn't heard a word from John or Finch. Perhaps they were letting her cool off. That was possible. But Sam had never felt more alone than she did that late night, standing in that bathroom, staring into the mirror at her aching features.

Calling Eva wouldn't accomplish much. She'd cuss him out over the phone, ask Sam if she called the police, and if she wanted her to come and stay with her. Sam couldn't ask her friend to do that, not when Eva had a baby to look after. At any rate, Sam wasn't dying. She was perfectly fine, for the most part. Kai had only left, reluctantly, a couple of hours ago.

She put on some clean, comfortable clothes; a t-shirt, thin sweatpants, and an old duster sweater, and went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. When it was ready, Sam blew on the hot mug and carried it over to the open window in the living room.

Sipping her tea carefully over her swollen lip, she stared out at the lights of the city, wondering which poor sap's house Kai had tried to charm his way into after he left. She wondered if he'd try to come back; she would probably have to move if that happened. Perhaps if she hadn't been so harsh with him when he first suggested – no, she couldn't think like that. This wasn't her fault.

Ugh. She had been so _stupid!_ If she hadn't been so angry at John and Harold, she wouldn't have been distracted by Kai's obvious charms and begging. It was a dumb move, and she regretted it.

Sam wondered where John was, if he and Harold were taking care of that next person that had come up. Hoping he was staying safe, Sam took another sip of her tea, letting it scald her throat, all the way down to her stomach. For some reason the pain she inflicted upon herself felt much better.

It was late. Sam began considering going to bed when there was a knock at her door. She stepped over to her purse on the stand next to the couch, removed her gun and went back to the window.

"It's open," she called out, holding her weapon in front of her, out of the line of sight from the doorway.

She took another sip of tea as the door opened and he stepped in.

"I saw your light on," John said quietly.

Sam closed her eyes, a wave of relief and gratitude washing over her as she heard the door shut. She sensed his hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said sincerely.

"It's okay. I understand why you thought what you thought," she said.

"I should have asked you first," John said simply.

"Yeah, that would have worked too," she joked. "I'm sorry I called you a stupid jag."

His footsteps moved into the kitchen instead of towards her. Sam looked over her shoulder. John was reaching up into the light fixture, his fingers feeling around for something.

"What are you doing?"

"Debugging your apartment."

Sam eased over and put the gun back in her purse while he was occupied and moved back to the window before he turned around. She listened as he stepped over to the lamp. The light in the room shifted as he tilted it at an angle and found the bug in the wire frame of the shade.

Taking another sip of her tea, Sam didn't see the city lights in front of her as she listened to John's footsteps exit the room.

"You didn't put one in the bathroom, did you?" she asked, cringing and then stopping because the expression hurt her face.

"No," John called back.

He walked back into the room, Sam felt his eyes on her and sighed. She turned around and set her tea down on the table next to the couch. She felt the mood in the room change instantly, even before she looked directly at him.

Sam looked up and met his eyes. His lips parted and his eyes flashed in surprise and anger. He quickly moved over to her.

"What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

Sam looked up at him as he approached her. He took her chin in his fingers and tilted the injured side of her face towards the light, the better to examine the damage.

"Um," Sam thought fast. "I was taking a bath earlier, and I stood up to get a towel. I slipped, and hit my head on the edge of the, um, the faucet." She gestured vaguely with her hand.

John pushed her hair away as she spoke, and she could tell already that he didn't believe her.

"What happened, Sam?" he asked again.

"Stairs. I fell down the – "

"Sam," he said sternly, letting her go. He stood stiffly in front of her and waited.

Sam wrapped her sweater protectively around her as she looked at the floor, and around the room before meeting his eyes again.

"You're going to think I'm stupid."

"Tell me," he said, losing his patience.

"My ex boyfriend showed up, out of the blue, a few days ago. Said he needed a place to stay."

"Tell me his name."

"No."

"Sam."

"_John_," Sam mocked his tone, and raised her eyebrows, which hurt.

"Go on," John said reluctantly.

"He won me over with that stupid grin and his thinking I'm funny – "

"You are funny," John confirmed. "Hysterical."

"Sarcasm, but thank you. That's not the point. I was mad at you, and he was nice to me. I didn't think there was any harm to it, because he'd never done anything to hurt me before. It surprised me," Sam sat on the couch and John rested on the arm next to her, his hands folded in front of him. "I should have known something was up, though. He'd been kicked out of his apartment. What he neglected to tell me was that he's in a lot of debt to some not so very nice people. He'd just found out that my parents died, and that I got all of their money, including some insurance.

"He made a crazy proposal today, that he wanted to get back together, that he missed me, and all of that crap."

"And you said no," John said.

"Not as simply as that, but yes, I said no. And he – he hit me. He hit me until I got to my gun. That's when he finally listened to me and left."

John bent over a little, looking at her face again. "Was he wearing a ring? That's a bad cut."

"His graduation class ring," Sam forced out a laugh. "He's still so proud of the fact that he graduated high school. That was about fifteen years ago."

"Longer for me," John muttered.

During her explanation, she didn't look at him. Perhaps she couldn't. For some reason, Sam felt ashamed of what had happened, and what she knew she looked like.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

"I know," Sam said, looking at her hands.

"What's his name, Sam?"

"John, it's very attractive and heroic, what you want to do, but I'm not going to let you go and kick his teeth in. He's gone, and if he stays gone, that's the end of it."

"What if he doesn't?" John sat down next to her on the couch, so he was level with her.

Sam turned her face away from him. "_Then_ you can kick his teeth in and help me move."

"Fine. But I'm going to clean that cut," he found her hand and pulled her up with him. He led her into the bathroom where he found a wash cloth and patted the counter next to the sink.

Sam sat up on the counter and John began treating the wound.

"It's your turn," he said softly.

"What?"

"Something I don't know about you."

Sam could have kissed him right there, she was so grateful for his mere presence, the attention was a bonus. And the change of subject to their previous agreement – one fact about her in exchange for one about him.

"Okay. Let me think," Sam went through facts about her boring self when she came across one she thought was amusing. "Oh, I like _Star Trek_."

John rinsed out the wash cloth. "Really?"

"My Dad _loved _it, and I was raised on it as a result, so I didn't have a lot of choice. But, yes I still like it. It's cheesy, but it makes me happy."

John smiled genuinely, it reached his eyes and he looked ten years younger.

"You really should smile more often, John," Sam said. "It suits you."

"Yeah, well," John said, putting his hand on her neck to hold her in place while he worked. "Not a lot to smile about most of the time."

Sam watched him as he worked. She felt his breath on her cheek and the warmth of his fingers felt nice on her skin. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, her eyes and nose tingling.

John's eyes went to hers and he remained close. Sam blinked the moisture out of her eyes and it rolled down her cheek.

"Don't cry, Sam." His voice was barely audible. He brushed the tear away and Sam felt a pull towards him that she'd never experienced before.

In that frozen moment, she wanted his touch, his eyes and his lips. But how could he possibly want the same from her? The fear and doubt kept her still, her eyes locked on his. But he didn't take his hand away from her neck. Johns hands were the good kind of hands, Sam thought. They were strong, powerful, but gentle when they needed to be. Unlike Kai's, whose hands were about the size of trashcan lids.

John's long fingers rested in her hair and for a quiet, frightening moment, Sam saw him come a little closer. The movement was slight, but she noticed just before he lowered his eyes and took a step away from the counter.

"I also came by to tell you about the new name that came up," he said.

The bubble burst.


	4. Numbers

John kept his distance as Sam jumped down from the counter. She took that behavior as a sign that what they just shared, whatever it was, wasn't only one sided. And that made her feel a little better.

"Didn't you just get a name?" Sam said, walking into the living room, taking her tea, and moving back into her bedroom.

"That's already been taken care of," John said, sitting next to Sam on the bed. "This one we just received tonight." He pulled out the photograph and handed it to her.

"Wow, this is the kid that went missing last year… or the year before, isn't it?" Sam looked from the picture to John.

"Jamie Coop, yes. It was two years ago."

"Are you telling me that he's still alive?"

"Not for long."

Sam looked at the picture again. "I remember now, he was about five years old. It happened at his school. The police found his backpack, but that's it. They searched the grounds and everywhere around that school."

"Carter's getting the case file."

Sam looked at John as though sizing him up. A wry smile moved across her lips. "John, how do you expect to find this kid when all of the police in the city couldn't?"

"I have to find him, Sam. Otherwise he will be killed for sure this time. It would be – "

"A miracle," Sam finished his sentence for him. "This kid has been gone for two years, John. The odds of finding him are almost non existent." Sam continued studying the picture of Jamie as she spoke. "It would be a miracle," she muttered.

"I never pay attention to the odds, Sam." John smiled partially as though he was proud of it.

"Okay," Sam said slowly. "What can I do?"

* * *

John sat on the bed next to Sam until her breathing was slow and steady. The ice pack on her face had fallen off and onto the floor. She'd fallen asleep after they discussed the case and she had asked him to stay. He had planned to anyway. There was another case he wanted to work on his own.

He slid quietly off of the bed and turned off the light. John unfolded the blanket at the end of the bed and covered her up to her shoulders before he stepped out of the room and shut the door.

Sam's purse sat on the end table next to the couch. John picked it up, removed the gun and found her phone. He replaced the weapon and pulled out his own phone. Accessing Sam's contacts list, he found what he wanted and dialed the number on his phone.

The call went straight to voice mail, as he had expected for how late it was.

"Hi Eva, this is John, Sam's friend. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something without Sam hanging around. You know how she can be," he chuckled at the implication. "I can meet you tomorrow at around noon if that works for you. Call me back when you get this." John left his number and sent the message.

* * *

"Mr. Reese, what are you waiting for, exactly?" Finch sounded irritated over John's earpiece.

"I told you, Finch. I have to take care of something first, and then we have the appointment at the school." John sat on a bench at the agreed meeting place, a playground on the west side of Central Park. He hoped Eva would arrive soon as he was receiving some suspicious glares from a few mothers who'd brought their children that morning. A man can't even sit on a bench in a park anymore and mind his own business, he thought.

"What is it you're taking care of?" Finch asked.

"Sam's old boyfriend is going to get a little visit whether she likes it or not."

Finch sighed. "Well, we both care about Sam. But I've never understood your tendency to make more work for yourself."

"Job security, Finch."

Finch went silent, and John averted his eyes from the playground entirely in case anyone became suspicious enough to approach him.

"I almost didn't recognize you without any bandages on your face." Eva walked up to the bench, pushing a stroller, which she stopped in front of John and put on the brake.

John leaned over and peered into the stroller. Little Ben was wide awake and trying to figure out how to get a thick plastic key ring off of his wrist. He wasn't making very much headway. He wore a sunhat, a long sleeved shirt and overalls under a jacket. His little shoes kicked in the air as Eva sat down with a heavy sigh.

"Where's Sam?" she asked.

"She's at her therapy appointment. She doesn't know about this," John said, his tone implying that Sam won't ever find out about it either.

"Gotcha," Eva said with a nod. Ben spoke some gibberish in his high voice as he gripped onto the key ring with his other hand.

Eva must have noticed John watching the baby.

"Do you want to hold him?"

"I – uh, sure."

Eva smiled knowingly, bright against her dark skin, and unbuckled Ben from his seat. She pulled him out and sat him on John's lap.

"He's sitting up," John observed. He put his hand around Ben's middle and held him in place as the baby continued his battle with the key ring.

"Yep, he's starting to roll over by himself too. He ran right into the leg of the coffee table a couple of days ago. Leo was freaking out," Eva laughed. "But Leo's been freaking out since Ben was born, so I don't try to help him."

Ben beat the key ring against John's knuckles. That didn't help.

"So, Sam's gone, you called me. What's going on?" Eva asked finally.

"Who was Sam's last boyfriend?"

Eva lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "Are you making a hit list or something?"

John laughed a little. "No. She was visited by an old boyfriend earlier this week. He didn't treat her very nicely, and she won't tell me his name."

"So you _are_ making a hit list. You could have just said so. I'm all for it. Let me see," Eva looked away as she thought for a moment. "Her last serious boyfriend was a while ago. They dated for a year before she realized that he was stupid. I'd been telling her six months before that."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Kai – um – hang on," Eva thought as Ben pulled at the key ring. It was now stuck on his balled up fist. "Kai Michaels, I think. Yeah, that sounds right. He was into weight lifting, saw Sam at the coffee shop one day and she fell for that smile of his."

"You didn't like him?" John asked.

"He had charm, and that's what she fell for. Unfortunately, there were no brains underneath the charm."

"How long ago did she see him?"

"Leo and I were just married, so it was three – four years ago? What do you mean he didn't treat her very nicely?"

John eyed Eva for a moment, considering whether he should tell her the truth. He still didn't know her very well, so he wasn't sure how she'd react. "He used her face for a punching bag until she was able to get him to leave."

Eva's smile dropped off of her face like it had weights on it. She absently shoved the key ring back on Ben's wrist once he had finally freed it. She leaned toward John, her eyes hard. "Is she all right?"

"She'll be fine. She found out he was after her money."

"I should have known," Eva said, folding her arms in front of her as though she was trying to keep herself from hitting something. "She lent us a little a couple months ago. It's driving Leo nuts because she won't let us pay her back. I should have known that some of her past idiots would show up thinking they could rely on her soft side. Are you sure it was Kai?"

"I'm doing a search on Kai Michaels as we speak," Finch said into John's ear.

"I'll find out."

"What are you going to do once you find out?"

John smiled as he lifted Ben off of his lap and gave him to his mother. "I haven't decided yet."

He stood and thanked Eva.

"Wait, John," Eva grabbed onto his arm. She pulled him back and he sat next to her. Ben waved his fists in the air in attempt to dislodge the ring. "Sam is my best friend. She's my sister – on the inside, she's my sister. I love the idea that you're taking care of this for her, I really do. I'd help you if I could. But, John, she's never really defined… what you are to her. I don't think she even knows. I'm just worried about her – her with you."

John smiled warmly. "I made Sam a promise a little while ago. I would always find her if she needed me."

Eva studied him for a moment, weighing his answer. It seemed to satisfy her for the time being. "You just make sure that happens, okay? I'll see you around, John."

"What have you got, Finch?" he said as he walked away from the playground.

"Kai Sun Michaels doesn't have a criminal record, only a few parking tickets. His last listed address is on the east side of town. Checking the apartment number – it is listed as vacant on the building website, which was updated two days ago."

"That's him."

* * *

They got out of the car across the street from the school. It was an old building with a brick face that looked as though it had been renovated several times over. The lawn in front was a narrow strip of grass that met with the main stairs into the school.

Sam adjusted her hair before she shut the car door. It swept over her forehead, covering the worst of the bruising on her face. The rest she was able to disguise convincingly with makeup. She looked the part of a classy, upper-middle class mother in a black pencil skirt, powder blue blouse and tasteful earrings. John, on the other hand, never varied and wore a dark suit with a white shirt, no neck tie.

They walked up the stairs and John opened the door for Sam into the school. The inside was simple, clean and bright. The walls were painted a cream color with red accents, and the floor was your basic linoleum imitation tile.

"So, how many kids do we have?" Sam muttered as they followed the sign saying "Main Office" with the gigantic arrow pointing to the left.

"We only need one for this."

"Yeah, but I swore that I'd never have an only child."

"So you want our fake kid to have fake siblings?"

"About that, is it a boy or girl? We should have sorted this out in the car."

"There isn't anything to sort out," John hissed as they walked through the main office door and approached the receptionist.

She greeted them with a smile as they walked in. "Mr. and Mrs. John Stills, we have an appointment with the Vice Principal," John said kindly.

Sam looked up at him suspiciously. He was smiling and his eyes were bright. He certainly could put on the charm when he wanted to. That receptionist was swiftly turning into putty. Sam watched the color come to her cheeks. Her smile widened as she asked them to have a seat, and she picked up the phone.

They sat down. The receptionist was still stealing glances at John, but he didn't appear to notice.

"You never told me about that part of your skill set," Sam whispered.

"What part?"

"The super human ability to turn a woman into a pile of goo, with which you can do as you please."

John blinked at her, clearly confused.

Sam laughed softly. "Don't look at me like you don't even know what I mean. Then again, if you really don't, bless your heart," she said as one of the doors inside the office opened.

A thin, middle aged man wearing thinly framed glasses, and a nice suit and tie stepped out to greet them. He stood a little shorter than John at his full height, and his face was warm and open. He smiled brightly as he took their hands in turn and shook them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stills, it's good to meet you, good to meet you. Well, if you'll step this way. Oh, Sarah, will you get them some visitor badges?" He looked at the receptionist who sprung into action and began digging through a drawer at her desk.

"It doesn't seem like it would be necessary for an elementary school, but we're very strict on who comes and goes here, you can never be too careful."

"No, you can't," John agreed as Sarah handed him his badge.

Sam waited for hers, but Sarah lingered just a little too long in front of John. Sam rolled her eyes. "_Thank you!_" she said in a raised voice and snatched her visitor badge out of Sarah's hand. The receptionist started and went back to her desk.


	5. Job Security

Mr. Clement, the Vice Principal, took them on a tour of the school as he jabbered away about the quality education that is given at this fine establishment of learning. The building itself had quite a history as the original spot where a farm house stood, then a court house, and on through history until it was turned into a school in the early 1900s. Mr. Clement continued to explain how the renovations never seemed to be finished. There was always a closed off wing or room of the school at one time of year or other.

"Will your family be moving into the neighborhood?" he asked Sam.

"Yes, well, we hope to. Checking the schools in the area is the last thing on the list, right sweetie?" she looked at John and nearly laughed out loud at his expression.

"Yeah, that's the last thing."

"John just got transferred to a position in the city. It's all gone so fast. The kids are staying with my parents until we can get something settled here." Sam babbled on walking abreast with Mr. Clement, John a little behind them.

"Excellent," Mr. Clement said. "I don't think you'll be disappointed. How old is your child?"

"Our son, Collin, is five," Sam felt the after effect of John's blatant eye roll behind her back. "If we decide to stay here, I expect our daughter Lucy will go to school here as well. She's three." A sharp poke in the small of her back conveyed John's exact thoughts: Don't overdo it, Sam. It was either that, or that he would never name his daughter Lucy. Sam believed it was the former.

"Lovely! It's refreshing, having new, young families in the mix." Mr. Clement nodded his approval as they passed door after door of classrooms.

Sam smiled, in spite of the pain it caused in her face.

"I've done some research on the area," John said airily. He took Sam's hand and put himself in between her and the Vice Principal as they walked down the wide hallway. "I understand that a boy went missing from the school grounds here about two years ago. Is that the reason for the higher security measures?"

Mr. Clement lowered his eyes and shook his head. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That was a terrible time for everyone," he admitted. "Sadly, we don't know what exactly happened. The school is gated, and the exits are monitored before first bell, after last bell and during recess. We were and are very vigilant about that, Mr. Stills. But yes, we have taken more measures since then. More surveillance, no child is allowed out of class without an adult, even to go to the restroom."

"That must be a strain on the staff," John observed.

"Yes, it is. But that was one of the worst things I've gone through. I don't plan on having it happen again."

They were taken throughout the school, shown some of the projects the students were working on in class. They even passed a line of Kindergarteners that were being led by their teacher, Miss Gaylene, down the hallway. Sam nearly squealed at how cute they all were. She waved at them, some waved back. Others stared, gaping up at the tall, serious man next to her.

Mr. Clement brought them out onto the grounds, behind the school. There was a playground with swings, jungle gym and a slide, a grassy area, and a little sidewalk that moved around the perimeter. Every inch of it was surrounded by a high fence, the gate of which was currently locked in the far corner of the playground.

"Your concerns are valid, Mr. Stills," Clement admitted. "I'd question sending my own child to a school where a kidnapping took place."

"So it was a kidnapping?" John asked.

"So the police have said. And sadly, the boy was never found," Clement's shoulders slumped and Sam saw on his face how tired he actually was.

"That's awful. His poor mother. I can't imagine –"

"It's best not to try, Mrs. Stills." Mr. Clement said as something beeped in his suit jacket.

He pulled his phone from an inside pocket and checked the number. "I apologize, I have to take this. Please, feel free to look around the grounds. I'll just be a minute."

Hand in hand, Sam and John walked down the sidewalk by the fence.

"Finch?" John said to the air.

Finch's voice came through both earpieces. "Mr. Francis Clement is squeaky clean. He's married, has a couple children that are grown. I've been going through the records of each school staff member that was employed during the time of the kidnapping."

"And?"

"Nothing yet."

John and Sam followed the sidewalk around a corner, skirting a school maintenance worker who was trimming the edges of the grass. He caught Sam's eye and nodded kindly in response to her smile.

"Maybe we should talk to him," Sam said as they passed old man. "He looks like he's been working here for thousands of years."

"Make sure you go through school maintenance too, Finch," John muttered.

"Already on it."

Sam let her fingers play across the links in the fence as they passed. "Do you ever want kids?" she asked, thoughtfully.

"That's not exactly realistic," John replied.

"No, I guess it's not."

They continued walking, John looking at every access point on the grounds that he could see. "Jamie Coop was taken before last bell," he muttered. "If everything was monitored as they say, then it must have been someone already inside the school."

"Teachers, staff, visitors that day," Sam pointed to the badge clipped to John's lapel.

"The list of visitors to the school that day is in the police report. There were only three. A couple, like yourselves, and a single father."

"Who was the single father?"

"I doubt it was him, Mr. Reese. He was out of the school by mid morning that day. Police confirmed that he arrived at his office before noon and stayed there until the evening."

"It can't be that easy, John," Sam said.

"Otherwise they would have found him by now," Finch added in their ears.

"I am truly sorry about that," Mr. Clement caught up with them, stuffing his phone back in his jacket. "I have a daughter who is pregnant. She's due any day now. It will be our first grandchild. My wife insists on calling me with updates every five minutes."

Sam laughed and congratulated him.

"Let's move on to the cafeteria then," Mr. Clement led the way out of the grounds and back into the school.

* * *

Finch's list of the school's staff from two years earlier got one hit. A Mr. Charles Gordon Jr. He resigned a month after Jamie Coop's kidnapping. The explanation for the resignation was "exhaustion", which Sam could understand. Being a teacher was a hard job, which was why it was a field she never would have touched with a ten foot pole when she was going to college.

John thought it significant enough to check out, but he had somewhere to go first. The ever reliable Detective Stills badge gained John a cooperative landlord of the building Kai was kicked out of. He didn't find it at all surprising that a cop was after Kai now. He kindly provided John with a couple of Kai's previous addresses, which Finch checked.

"The first one is still leased to a woman, Jennifer Costas. She's single, works as a waitress."

"Old girlfriend," John presumed.

"In theory, yes. The second address is also leased to a single woman. She's older, works for an advertising agency downtown," Finch read off a list like he was reading instructions to a board game. "Helen James."

"Sounds like she has money," John said.

"I'd say so. She lives in a penthouse on Central Park West."

"I'm sensing a pattern here, Finch," John said as he changed directions in the car and headed west.

"Indeed. Mr. Michaels sounds more like a parasite, living off of one woman and then the next. His debt indicates that he ran out of women, I'd guess."

"Or they got wise to him."

* * *

John knocked on the penthouse door. A woman with long blonde hair answered it. She was dressed in a robe that barely covered the skimpy bathing suit she had on. She looked John up and down like a skilled and experienced cougar.

In the second after she opened the door, John saw her come to a conclusion through the expression on her face: he was a little too old for her taste. She pulled the robe tighter around her.

"May I help you?" she said

"Yes ma'am," John held up his badge. "I'm Detective Stills. I was looking for a Kai Michaels. I have some questions for him. I understand that he stayed at this address some time ago?"

Helen James clutched onto her robe, her nerves immediately giving away the fact that Kai had not only lived there, but was there as John spoke. "What sort of questions?" she asked.

"We have reason to believe that Mr. Michaels may have been involved in a disturbance a few nights ago, and wanted to get his statement. But we've had a hard time finding him," John smiled with the last sentence, trying to keep the mood light and her concerns in check.

"Well, if it's just some questions…" Helen said uncertainly. "Come in. Kai came to me two nights ago. He needed a place to stay." She stepped aside, and spoke as John entered. "I could never say no to him," she laughed and tossed her hair. "Please have a seat."

They stepped down into a large living area. Helen indicated an expensive white sofa, and left the room. John looked around the enormous space as he sat on the edge of the sofa. One wall was floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a vast patio and swimming pool.

Whispered voices came from another room further inside the apartment. John couldn't make out the words, but judging from the tones, Kai wasn't happy about the cop in the living room.

John stood as they entered. Kai was putting on a t-shirt, pulling it over his bulk as he entered the living room. Eva wasn't lying. Kai was big, but that only meant that he'd fall harder.

"Kai Michaels," John said flatly.

"Yeah?"

"Did you visit a woman by the name of Samantha Tudin earlier this week?"

Kai's features instantly darkened and he glared at John. "What did she tell you?"

John smiled, his eyes ice cold. "You've just told me all I need to know," he said.

He stormed at Kai, who was too slow to defend himself as John made a jab at his face and then his side. Kai was knocked off balance, but moved for a blow at John's stomach. He missed as John moved and pinned him against the wall by his throat. John pulled out his gun and pressed it into Kai's jaw.

Helen screamed and backed away.

"I will know if you come near Sam again. And if you do, I will find you, and I won't let you get off as easily. Do you understand?" John spoke slowly and quietly, his voice wavering with controlled fury.

"You're not a cop!" Kai said, choking under John's grip.

John smiled again. "Hm. You're smarter than she said you were. Do you understand?"

Kai eyes were hateful, but nodded and John released him.

* * *

Sam held the photograph in her hand. Luckily, she had the chance to study it before she entered the dimly lit, bass-blasting dance club. She'd seen Charles Gordon Jr. when he came into the place. He made a beeline for the bar and had been sitting there for a half hour.

He was decently dressed, wore dark rimmed glasses, and drank scotch and sodas like they were going out of style. With Finch's instruction, Sam tried approaching him, which resulted in one of the shortest conversations she'd ever had. He wasn't interested in her or anyone else, just his drink.

Sam sat at a table in a corner booth, wearing a much more tasteful dress than the one she borrowed from Eva; sleeveless, black, with a red accent around the waist. And the length would have been closer to John's comfort levels. She watched Gordon. He seemed contented with just sitting and drinking. But why would he go to a noisy, busy dance club for that? Even a sports bar would have worked a little better.

"Hi there."

Sam looked up, sliding the photograph back into her purse. She smiled at the man who had greeted her. He was annoyingly obvious, the way his eyes roved over her. Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he licked his lips.

He sat down next to her without asking, and the only thing that kept him from practically sitting in her lap was her purse that sat between them. Sam held it there like a barrier wall.

"My name is Keith."

"Hello Keith," Sam said, trying to scoot into the wall in order to get more space in between them. "My name is – "

He pressed his finger to her lips, shocking Sam into silence. "I'm very good at guessing names. Or, I could just call you Beautiful for the rest of the night," he suggested.

"Or I could just tell you my name," Sam said smiling and batting her eyes.

"I think I'll guess," Keith said as though he didn't hear her. He used the game as an excuse to look her over again, his eyes lingering on her breasts before moving back to her face.

"Your name is… Holly, right?"

Sam faked surprise, putting her hand to her chest and grinning at him. "How did you know that? You asked the bartender, didn't you?"

Keith shrugged, basking in his assumed greatness as he blatantly lifted his arm and rested it on the seat behind her. "I told you I was good at guessing names."

Sam played along and leaned closer to him. "What else are you good at, Keith?"

"You'd be surprised."

"I'm sure I would be."

Keith brushed her hair off of her shoulder, gliding his fingers over the bare skin of her arm when a grip like a vice closed over his wrist, pulling his hand off of her shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late, honey." John's eyes flashed at Keith, who backed away from Sam. John completed the greeting by leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.


	6. All Sides

Sam smiled gratefully at John, both for his impeccable timing and the unexpected kiss. She looked up at him with relief and a little amazement at what he was wearing: dark slacks and a black leather jacket over a royal blue button down shirt. It suited him too well. Sam forced eyes away. "It's okay. Keith was keeping me company," she said.

"I can see that." John smiled, which made Keith squirm.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know where my manners are, Keith, this is John. John, this is my new friend Keith."

John tugged Keith to his feet, his grip still firm around his wrist.

"Uh, she didn't say she had a boyfriend," Keith explained in his defense.

"No, because you didn't let me, did you?" Sam stood in front of him, their faces close. Her eyes narrowed and the willing, dippy girl was gone. "Keith, girls don't like to be named like dogs. They also don't like to be touched when they don't give you permission. Did I give you permission?" Sam waited for an answer, but all she received was a blink and a grunt.

"And when you talk to one, it would help if you looked at her face from time to time. My name is Samantha, by the way. Now go and find a dog you can train. That's more your style anyway, isn't it?" She waved him away after John released him, and sat back down.

"Do you realize what you just did?" John asked.

Sam looked up at him; her eyes followed him as he took off the jacket. He put his arm behind her as Keith had done, and sat closely next to her, making them appear as a couple.

"I told him the truth, John," Sam said simply. "He _named_ me. He wouldn't even let me say my name."

"It takes a lot of guts to approach a woman, Sam. You just destroyed that guy."

"I can't believe you're defending that moron. I'm sure he'll be naming some eighteen-year-old by next week, don't worry."

John smiled and looked at her. His face was shadowed by the dim lighting in the club, but she saw his smile. "He's still looking," he muttered, and gently kissed her lips, combing his fingers through her hair.

Unprecedented, that was the word; John's maneuver was so unprecedented that Sam's eyes widened and she pulled away, her hand on his chest. It wasn't much of a kiss, but it still shocked her. "John, are you drunk?"

"Sam, I want you to look very closely at everything else that's going on in this room right now," John whispered in her ear.

Sam looked around the room. At the bar, there were three couples, all of them within different stages of pairing off. On the dance floor, there was the same result. At the other end of the room in each booth were a man and a woman, all of them completely oblivious to what was going on around them, because they were too busy with each other. There were a few groups of people, talking, and drinking, but they were definitely in the minority, including Gordon.

And there she was, sitting alone with a man, so the obvious thing to do was –

"We can't just sit and stare – "

"Like you usually do," Sam laughed.

"I don't stare."

"If you say so."

Finch cleared his throat, "Perhaps you can keep that kind of interaction to a minimum. We do have a purpose here."

John kept his face close to Sam's. "Just act naturally," he said quietly.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said nervously as her brain tried to switch gears. "I talked to the bar tender earlier. He says that Gordon comes here nearly every night," Sam whispered in John's ear, her hand moving up his arm to his shoulder. "He might be waiting for someone, but the bartender told me that he's never with anyone. It's pretty expensive for someone who's on unemployment."

"He's not unemployed," Finch corrected. "He's working for an hourly wage as a private book keeper."

Sam had to work to control herself, feeling John's breath on her neck, and his hand on her back. She believed that this was what it truly felt like to be driven crazy.

"I've accessed Mr. Gordon's finances," Finch explained. Sam could hear the clacking of the keyboard in the background. "He only has a few hundred dollars in the bank, but… he just made a hefty transfer to another account. There isn't a listed account number here. Odd," Finch said, confused and continued clacking away.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam said.

They pulled away from each other. John's face came back into focus. "I'm linked up to Gordon's phone, so whatever he – "

John's phone rang. He pulled it out and Sam looked at Gordon, who was searching in his pockets. Sam watched as he pulled out a phone and stepped away from the bar. John took her hand.

They stood and followed Gordon out of the club, keeping their distance.

"Act naturally," John said, and Sam tried to relax. He put his coat over her shoulders as they walked out of the club.

John held the door open for her and put his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close as they walked slowly together down the sidewalk. Sam hesitated, but gingerly put her arm around his waist, putting her thumb through one of the belt loops of his pants. They looked like the typical couple, walking home after a pleasant evening.

"I'm routing the call," Finch said.

"… you enough," Gordon was talking on the phone several meters ahead of them. His voice was harsh. "There's no reason to – "

"I've decided that I could be getting a lot more for keeping your secrets." A steady male voice answered on the other end of the line.

"I can't give you anymore," Gordon snapped.

"You'll find a way. Because you won't stop what you're doing, will you?"

Gordon stayed silent.

"That's what I thought. You're so far gone Charlie," the man said smugly. "Don't forget what we can do to you. We'll meet tomorrow."

Sam looked at John and mouthed the word _we_ as she lifted her eyebrows. John's face was hard. He shook his head once.

"What, you're not following me as we speak?"

"I have something else I have to take care of tonight."

"Where do you – "

"I'll find you."

The line went dead, and Gordon stuffed the phone back into his pocket. He glanced behind him and continued walking.

* * *

John and Sam followed Gordon home where he had one more drink and went to bed. Sam didn't think he'd sleep very well, if at all, he was so spooked.

She yawned as John unlocked the car and she got in the passenger seat.

"It's definitely blackmail," Finch confirmed in their ears.

"Gordon has made the same payment at the same time every month to what _looks_ like a nonexistent account, but the number is there. It's almost like a file within a file. Took me some time to track it down."

"So what do we do?"

"We find out who's blackmailing him."

"It may be easier to confront Gordon first, Mr. Reese."

John started the car and drove down the quiet street. "He's not the kidnapper," he said.

"How do you know that?" Finch and Sam asked him at the same time.

"He doesn't have it in him."

"He's obviously got something, because he's hiding something. Something big enough that he wants to keep it from – "

Sam's phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. It was Eva, which was strange for that time of night.

"Eva?" she answered through her earpiece. Static and muffled background noises came from the other line. Eva didn't answer back.

"Hello? Eva? Are you all right?"

Sam heard a baby crying and her blood went cold.

"Something's wrong."

"I have the address of the call," Finch said.

"That's their house."

John snapped the car around and sped in the other direction toward Eva's home.

* * *

Those ten minutes to Eva and Leo's house were some of the longest of Sam's life. She could only compare it to one other time, earlier that year when John had been shot and nearly drowned in the river. She had gotten him out and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the breath to come back to him.

The tires squealed as John pulled up to the curb in front of Eva's house. An orange light came from one of the front windows. It flickered and changed shape as it seemed to grow larger.

"Holy shit," Sam said, jumping out of the car.

John pulled out his gun as they ran across the lawn to the small, one storey house. The door was already open.

John burst in, Sam right behind him. She called for Eva, but received no answer in reply. The house was completely dark except for a spreading fire that was caught on an armchair and a set of drapes in the living room.

"Coat!" John shouted, reaching out his hand.

Sam ripped off his leather jacket and tossed it to him. He ran into the living room, pulled down the curtains and beat out the flames with the jacket and his feet. Thankfully, the fire hadn't spread far enough to be completely out of control.

Ben was crying somewhere in the house, but Sam took that as a good sign. He was upset, but he was alive.

John coughed on the smoke that filled the room and followed Sam into the short hallway. She turned on the lights, calling out for Eva. She reached the bathroom, switched on the light and screamed at what she saw.

Eva was bruised and tied to a metal handle on the tub. She was tightly gagged as well. Her phone lay on the floor next to her bare feet.

"Eva!" Sam ran in and squatted next to her friend. John came in next to her. He pulled out his knife and started on the ties around Eva's wrists.

Sam untied the gag and pulled it away, along with a piece of cloth that was stuffed inside Eva's mouth.

"Thank God," Eva said, tears streaming down her face.

"Make sure Ben's all right," John said as he freed Eva.

Sam jumped up and ran back into the hallway. Ben's screams were beyond belligerent now. He was pissed. Sam found him lying in his crib in the little nursery. He looked fine, he was just upset, probably hungry.

"It's okay, baby. I've got you," she said, picking him up and holding him close. She patted his back consolingly as she went back into the bathroom. Eva, now free, sat on the toilet, her head in her hands. John squatted in front of her.

"Eva, listen to me," he said gently. He took a hold of her wrist and pulled her hand away. "Tell me who did this."

Eva took a wad of toilet paper and wiped her face. John held onto her hand as she blew her nose.

"I don't know. There were three men. They just burst in here."

"Where's Leo?" Sam asked.

"He has his boy's night tonight. He's at a bar with some friends, losing money no doubt."

"You didn't recognize them?" John asked.

"No. They had guns and threatened to kill me if I didn't cooperate," Eva explained, her voice was even but her entire body was shaking. "But I don't understand, they didn't take anything. They didn't hurt Ben."

Sam bounced Ben up and down and walked back and forth in the hallway with him. It calmed him down and things were quiet.

"I asked them what they wanted," Eva continued. "They said I should keep better friends."

Sam stopped walking and stared through the bathroom doorway. "What did they look like, Eva?"

"Just average white guys. One of them and had a big scar on his face. He's the one who tied me up."

Now terrified, Sam gaped at John, who returned her stare with a look of pure malice. They knew exactly who was behind this and why.

"We have to get them out of here," John said, getting to his feet.

"What?" Eva watched him as he walked out of the bathroom.

"Eva, I can't explain now," Sam said as John passed her. "You have to leave this house. Pack a few things and John and I can take you somewhere safe."

"Sam, what the hell is happening?" Eva demanded. "You're acting like – "

"Eva," Sam took her by the hand and held it tightly. "I love you. You need to listen to me now, and I'll explain everything when you're safe, I promise."

Eva nodded and scampered into her bedroom.

Sam walked into the living room where John, his weapon still drawn, stood guard.

"Finch?" he said.

"Here. I've made a reservation for them already."

"It was Elias, Finch. I think this was a warning," John looked significantly at Sam and she understood.

"Why a warning?"

"If it was anything more than that, Eva would be dead."


	7. For Life

Sam sat in the back of the car with Eva and Ben on the way to the hotel. Ben sat in his car seat, completely at ease. His large eyes watched the street lights as they passed in and out of the windows.

"Did you call Leo?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. He thought I was joking," Eva laughed sloppily. "He's meeting us there."

Their hands were clasped tightly together as though Eva using Sam as a sort of life preserver. Eva rested her head on Sam's shoulder and Sam looked to the front of the car. She just barely saw John's eyes, reflected in the rearview mirror, flit from them in the back seat to the road in front of them.

* * *

John let them into the hotel suite. He searched the bedroom, the main room that had a TV and sofa, and bathroom first before the girls entered. Sam turned on the lights and set Ben's car seat down on the floor next to the sofa. She unbuckled him and pulled him out.

"There we go," she said sweetly. "You're all right now."

Eva walked in and set her bags down on one of the easy chairs in front of the television. The door shut with a snap, and Eva looked at Sam.

"You promised to tell me, Sam," she said simply.

Sam glanced at John. He remained stiff and unreadable, but nodded once before he went into the bedroom. He started talking quietly, and Sam left him in there.

She sat down on the sofa, with Ben dozing off in her lap and Eva next to her.

"Eva, this is going to take some time to explain," Sam said slowly, wondering where she should begin. "It's also going to be hard to believe, but you have to trust me. I'm not lying."

"I always trust you," Eva said.

Sam felt a weight of guilt at Eva's words. She'd kept so much from her friend, from the one person she confided in. Well, it wouldn't be kept from her any longer.

"Eva, do you remember when my parents and Scottie were killed last fall?"

"Of course I do. That's when you changed."

"I changed?"

Eva nodded and wiped her eyes for good measure. "You've been different since then, Sam. Not in a bad way. But in just a bunch of small ways."

Sam had never considered how her learning about John and Harold and what they do had affected her. She'd always believed that after her family died, she'd basically, eventually, returned to normal.

"There's a big reason for that," Sam said. "Bigger than what I thought too, at first."

"I'm listening." Eva braced herself.

* * *

Having hung up her call with Finch and turned off her phone, Sam started her story. She told Eva everything. She told her about John, what he really does, what he had been in the past. Sam explained what really happened to her parents and Scottie, and how John had saved her life more than once in less than six months.

Sam described the events a short time ago when she had saved John in turn. She explained the deal she had with Elias, and her reasons for doing what she did, making sure that John was not in the room at the time.

After about twenty five minutes, Sam was closing her story.

"That's why they came after you. It's because of me, Eva. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I never even realized that they would have connected you to me. But, I promise we'll keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you, not like it happened to my family. Please, can you forgive me?"

Sam had tears on her face. She used the corner of Ben's blanket to wipe off her cheeks. In spite of what the truth meant, Sam felt better after she finished. Eva knew now. It was like she was now helping Sam carry a little bit of the weight.

Eva sat for nearly a full minute after Sam finished speaking; absorbing the information she'd just heard. Her eyes were lowered to her lap, and she absently fiddled with her wedding ring.

"You love him?" she asked quietly.

Both girls jerked their heads around, scanning the room for John. He was still in the bedroom.

Sam nodded. "Yes. It's stupid, but I – "

"It's not stupid, Sam," Eva managed a smile. "It's certifiably _insane_, but not stupid."

Sam laughed as Eva took her hand. "It sounds like you're already too deep in this, though. And that's what scares me."

"I don't want you to be scared for me," Sam said. "John will protect me, he always has. I just want to make sure that _you_ don't get into this any deeper than you are. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you, or Ben, or Leo – "

"Sam," John was suddenly in the room. He jerked his head, indicating that he wanted to speak with her in private.

Sam squeezed Eva's hand once more, handed the now sleeping Ben over to her, and followed John into the bedroom. She entered just as he was taking out his earpiece. He held out his hand, and Sam took the piece out of her ear and gave it to him. All of the alarms went off in her head. This was something he didn't even want Finch to hear.

"You're going to stay here tonight with Eva and her family," John said simply. "Don't go back home until morning. I'll have checked it out for you before you get there."

"Okay," Sam said, feeling that this was not the time to argue with him.

"Sam," John looked at her hard, and she felt as though he could see through her. "I can't let you do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"You still have Eva. You could still have your own life. Do you understand?"

"I _have_ my life," Sam protested.

"This isn't a life, Sam. This isn't what anybody chooses."

"I can make my own choices, thank you."

"They're not the right ones, though."

"Who are you to judge?" she snapped.

John surprised her at how fast he approached her. He grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides. That same look was still in his eyes.

"You want kids, Sam. You want a family. You want a life – a life that you can never have if you continue with this."

"If I stay with you, you mean. I don't care, John! I didn't have a life – "

"Yes you do," he said harshly, shutting her up. "I know you still do."

"John, what are you saying?"

"I have to let you go."

John pulled her close and kissed her, forcefully, hungrily. His arms went around her back, holding her tightly. Sam clung to him. Her mind went numb, only her body responded. She kissed him back, breathing him in. He smelled like smoke, sweat and aftershave. Sam lived in that kiss. For the few seconds that it lasted, Sam lived her entire life with John in that space of time.

When he released her, she sat down on the bed, giving her brain a chance to restart. They were still in the hotel room, that same night that they found Eva. John's face was close to hers again. He lifted a section of her hair behind her ear, cupping her face in his hand.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Protecting you." His touch left her and he stepped away from the bed. "You won't be able to find me, even if you try. Don't try."

He moved to the door. "Goodbye, Sam."

She heard him leave, and her instinct was to follow him and smack some sense back into him, but she didn't have the strength to stand. He'd taken it from her. Somehow, he'd known what he was doing the entire time. He truly was aware of the powers he had.

Sam cursed him and started to cry. Her exhaustion and fear finally caught up with her, and she broke down. She heard the main door shut, and then open again. Leo's voice came back to her from the main room.

"What the hell is going on?" he said, partially joking.

Eva hissed at him to shut up.

She peeked into the room and ran to Sam, who began to sob. Eva sat next to her and put her arms around her.

Leo followed Eva in, saw Sam crying and flung his arms up in the air. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Will you shut up?" Eva snapped. "Jeez, it's always has to be about _you_!"

* * *

Sleep never came, no matter how she much she tried.

Sam stared at the television, the cold light reflecting upon her blank features. The sound was down low, but she wouldn't have heard it anyway.

The door to the bedroom opened and shut. Bare feet scuffed across the thick carpet and Leo sat down next to Sam on the sofa. He put his glasses on his nose and ran his fingers through his short curly hair.

"Can't sleep?"

Sam spoke without looking at him, or acknowledging his presence in any other way. She sat with her legs crossed underneath her, and her arms wrapped around one of the sofa pillows. She held it to her chest as she stared at the TV.

"It's a strange bed," Leo said. "It's a kick ass bed, but still strange." He smiled a kind, lopsided smile at her. She still didn't look at him.

"Eva tells me that you and John came to her and Ben's rescue."

"It was my fault – "

"Thanks," Leo said, stopping her from placing the blame. "If anything happened to either of them, I don't – I just can't even imagine it."

"Neither can I," Sam said.

They sat in silence for a minute or so, watching a useless infomercial that they couldn't hear.

"She also tells me that John is more like a kind of… Jason Bourne."

Sam smiled a little. "Yeah, kind of."

"Never thought I'd meet someone like that," Leo mused, almost to himself.

Sam shook her head. She never thought she would either.

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier. He shouldn't have just left you like that."

She sighed and wrapped her arms tighter around her and the pillow. "He said it was to protect me."

"That's a good reason," Leo said thoughtfully, nodding his head slowly. "Do you think it's good enough?"

Sam looked at Leo for the first time since he sat down. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know if she ever told you this, but when Eva and I were dating, she got really pissed at me for something – I don't remember exactly what it was. But she stormed off, said she never wanted to see me again."

He had Sam's attention. "She usually means that when she says it."

"I know. She meant it then too," Leo laughed.

"What did you do?"

"For the purpose of this story, that doesn't matter."

"Eva will tell me anyway," Sam concluded.

"Fine, whatever. _Anyway_, I knew she meant what she said. But, I went after her. I found her. We had a shouting match. But she knew I'd come after her; she knew I wouldn't give up easily. And so we worked through it."

Sam rubbed her puffy eyes and sighed. "This is a little more complicated than that. He told me not to try and find him."

"So don't _try_, Sam," Leo said, studying her face closely. "Find him."

"But he wouldn't let me. John's excellent at disappearing. If he doesn't want me to find him, I won't."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Know what?"

"That he doesn't want you to find him. Sam, I've seen how you look at him. But he doesn't look at you normally either."

"He doesn't?"

"Why do you think he's trying to protect you?"

"You don't know him," Sam said skeptically.

"I don't have to know him," Leo said. "I just know that you still managed to be happy after what happened to your family. And it wasn't because you stopped working at that stupid coffee shop. It's up to you, Sam. And I know I haven't known you as long as Eva has, but I've known you for a while now. I never thought you'd let someone dictate how you live your life, especially a man."

Leo leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I think I'll give that kick ass bed another try," he said, getting to his feet and shuffling out of the room.

Sam heard the door shut, and her brain began to work again.

Leo was right. Her life was hers to make. John had no right to deny her that. The gallantry and consideration of his decision to sever his ties with Sam in order to protect her and those she loved slowly faded as Sam's distress changed into anger and frustration.

"Stupid jag," she mumbled into the pillow.


	8. Stalemate

Sam left just after dawn. Eva and her family would be safe in the hotel room for now, and Sam had some business to attend to. She had to make a couple of stops first before arriving at the abandoned library, aka HQ.

She held John's jacket on a hanger, in a plastic covering, fresh from the dry cleaner. Tucking that under her arm, she tried the door to the library. It was locked. All that did was infuriate her more. With the jacket still under her arm, Sam looked around. The streets weren't very busy yet. There were very few people around, especially in this part of town. She pulled her gun out of her purse with a new silencer attached to it.

Holding it an inch away from the lock, Sam fired and quickly stuffed it back in her purse. The door swung open and she pushed her way in.

She stomped up the stairs, knowing that they'd hear her coming. Oh, she hoped that John would try to stop her. Just _let_ him try it.

Sam reached the top of the stairs and entered the office. Finch blinked up at her from the desk, several lights from the different monitors reflected in his glasses. "I didn't think that a mere locked door would stop you, Miss Tudin. But, I refuse to find a new location for our operation. Especially on such short notice."

"Where is he?" Sam demanded.

"He's working," Finch replied calmly. "You have to understand why – "

"I understand," Sam said. "Honestly, Harold, I do. But that bastard has no right to choose what kind of life I should have."

"Even if it endangers your friends?"

That stumped her for a second, but she rallied. "First of all, that's my business. Secondly, if it comes to it, I'll get my friends out of Elias' reach if I have to. He's not God, Harold. And neither is John for that matter."

"There is no argument against that."

"I came to bring John's jacket by," Sam held up the article of clothing as though to prove she wasn't lying. Instead of hanging it up, however, she tossed it flat on the floor and stomped all over it, grinding her heels into the plastic and tearing it.

When she was finished, she looked up at Finch, his neutral, studious expression remained on is face.

"I'll pay for a new lock for the door," Sam said, leaving the jacket on the floor.

"I must admit, Miss Tudin, I haven't seen such a display of maturity in a long while," Finch said as though he were making a comment on the weather. He looked at the mangled jacket, then back at Sam, who was overflowing with anger.

"Maturity?" She said venomously. "Did John tell you what he did last night?"

"We discussed it beforehand. Mr. Reese felt that you should no longer be involved with this… operation, because of what happened to Mrs. Jefferson and her family. It was his decision for the most part."

"But I _am_ involved! Do you think Elias will stop threatening me just because John says I'm 'no longer involved'? I'm in this, Harold. I am too deep into this to get out now. I am a part of all of this, just like you and John, whether he likes it or not!" The words spilled out of Sam faster and faster. She had to gulp for air after she finished, and she stood in the middle of the room, staring unblinkingly at Finch, breathing heavily.

Finch studied her closely for a moment or two. "I do have an alternative," he said slowly. "But Mr. Reese would not be in favor of it. Neither am I, in fact, but I believe that everyone deserves to choose from every option available."

The mere fact that John wouldn't like it tilted the scale. "What is it?"

"Have a seat, Miss Tudin," Harold said.

* * *

John's phone was still paired with Gordon's, and he waited at the designated meeting place; a corner bar that was basically a hole in the wall. It was mid morning, so business was slow. John sat with his back to Gordon, a few tables down and to the right.

Gordon was fidgety, restless. He continued rotating his glass of beer on the table top, his eyes continuously flicking to the doorway and back again.

"I've always liked teachers. So punctual," a voice said in John's earpiece. He sat up a little as he heard a chair being pulled out and pushed in again when the newcomer sat down at Gordon's table.

"I can't pay that," Gordon blurted immediately. "Neither of us can. It's too much."

"I'll have to leave an anonymous tip with the police, then, won't I?"

John didn't want to risk turning around to get a look. He waited, and listened.

"There is no way I can do that," Gordon begged. "Susan doesn't even have a home anymore. She stays in her car mostly."

"And the kid?"

John's ears pricked up and he held his breath.

"I don't have to tell you!" Gordon found some courage from somewhere for a split second.

"I was only curious. It doesn't seem like things are working out the way you planned." John could hear the smirk on the man's face in his voice. "The deal is, you pay in cash, or we'll find some other way to make you pay. And trust me; the police would be a lot easier on you than we would. But it's your choice."

The chair squeaked across the wood floor as the man stood to leave.

"Why don't you just go to the police?" Gordon asked hopelessly.

The man turned. John risked a glance over his shoulder. His lips thinned and his eyes hardened when he glimpsed the face of the man. Scarface.

"And lose a reliable little informant and money counter such as yourself?" Scarface lifted his eyebrows. "It's you're fault you're losing control. You never should have protected her." He left the bar.

John stood and left some cash for his barely touched drink. He walked quietly over to Gordon, and sat down in front of him with a small smile on his face.

Gordon's head jerked up. He looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. "Who are you?"

"Someone who's looking for a scared little boy," John said softly.

Gordon twitched again and he blinked at John. "I don't know what you're – "

"Let's move past all of that, shall we, Charlie?" John said, smiling. "I know you know who has Jamie Coop. I need to know where."

Gordon sat back in his chair and rubbed his sagging features. "I can't – "

"You can," John leaned across the table, his hands folded.

"No, you don't understand. I can't tell you because I don't know where. I swear it. The police never knew. They never thought to – "

"Who is Susan?"

Gordon's expression turned tragic. John believed he was about to burst into tears for a moment. But he held himself together. "Susan Gaylene."

"The Kindergarten teacher?"

"_Substitute_ teacher. She's been working off and on at the school for years," Gordon said. "You won't hurt her, will you? I just can't handle this anymore." Gordon was desperate, and it tugged a little at John's sympathy.

"If she gives over the boy, she'll be fine." John stood and strode out of the bar. "Finch?" he said as he walked across the street and onto the next block.

* * *

"You call that an option?" Sam asked, stunned.

"I do. And you have witnessed the results of it, don't forget," Finch said logically.

"That seems so… permanent, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't seem that way. It is."

"Finch?"

John's voice came into the room from the speaker on the computer desk. Sam jumped and twitched her head around before she realized what was going on.

Finch switched on the microphone on his end. "Yes, Mr. Reese?"

"Did you hear that?"

Finch looked a little panicky. He glanced at Sam. "What was that, Mr. Reese?"

"Finch," John said testily. "What is going on?"

Sam walked around to the front of the desk, nudging Finch in his chair out of the way. "You rat bastard, what do you think is going on?"

"Sam," John said flatly.

"You and I need to have _words_, John, and then I might just shoot you for the hell of it!"

"Sam,"

"You think that you can just tell me to stay away and I'll obey like a meek little bimbo, just like that?" Sam continued; her anger guided her words instead of her brain. "You have no _idea_ who you're dealing with, you jackass! I don't give up that easily."

"Obviously," Finch said.

"Sam,"

"You have no right to tell me how to live my life! I know, I put Eva in danger, yes, but I will fly her and her family out of this _country_ before I let you tell me how I'm supposed to live!"

"Sam,"

Sam was going full throttle. There was no way of stopping her. Even Finch had backed away a little during her ongoing tirade. "Who was it that saved your narrow behind from drowning? Hm? Who took out an agent of the CIA with a metal pipe in order to save your sorry ass? Well guess what! I should have shot _you_ with that rifle! It would have saved me so much trouble in the long run."

"Sam,"

"If I hadn't saved your stupid life before, you wouldn't even have the option of trying to 'protect' me now. Do you realize that? Did that even enter your brain? I can't believe what you – "

"_Sam!_"

Sam whipped around. John was standing there, at the top of the stairs. His voice had come over the speaker and from across the room. Sam jerked backwards, falling against the wall. Saying those things to him over the phone was one thing. Saying things like that to his face was something else entirely. Although she didn't regret her words, she was now afraid of their result.

John looked down at his mangled jacket on the floor. He picked it up by the hanger and hung it on the coat rack in the room's entrance. "Sam shot the lock downstairs," he said as though he was mentioning the score to a baseball game. "Finch, I need to find Susan Gaylene." His eyes moved over Sam like she wasn't there.

"The Kindergarten teacher?" Sam said, bewildered.

"She's a substitute teacher," Finch said, pulling up the records with lightning speed. John leaned over his shoulder, looking at the screens. "There is no known address. No listed phone number. The only e-mail address that's listed for her is through the school district."

"Where would a homeless, substitute teacher hide a seven-year-old kid? What kind of car does she have?"

"She has Jamie?" Sam asked.

"If you had been listening, you would have known that," John looked at her for the first time since he'd come in. The look could have burned holes in steel.

Sam flared up again. "If you hadn't been such a douche last night, we _would _have heard it!"

John stood. In two long strides he was in front of Sam. He grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her out of the room and down the stairs. Sam feared he was about to bodily toss her into the street. And the question in that circumstance would be not if she would try to get back in, but if she would be able to get back up.

But he didn't move to the main door. Sam stumbled on the scattered books on the floor as he pulled her further into the main floor of the library. He released her when they stood in the middle of a row of tall bookshelves.

She wrenched her arm away from him and slapped him hard across the face. John didn't move to block it this time. Sam balled up her fists and punched him in the chest a few times. Again, John took it and didn't move.

"You're not going to try and pin me to the floor again?" Sam said, suddenly exhausted.

"We both know that you enjoyed that too much last time," he stepped closer to her and smiled, but it wasn't his smile. It was cold. "That kiss got to you more than I thought it would, didn't it?" He lifted his eyebrows smugly.

Sam took the bait and moved to slap him again, but he caught her wrist this time.

"Are you finished?"

"With what?"

"Your tantrum."

Everything he said sent her over the edge. "That's it! Where's my gun? I mean, where's my purse?" She looked around and realized that she'd left both items upstairs. And John was not letting her go to get it.

"Fine," she pressed up close to him and reached around his back, but John was already wise to her. He pushed her away and took his weapon out of the back of his pants. He emptied the magazine and tossed it away.

"Your move," he said.

Sam's wrist was hurting under his grip. Her hand was going pale and began to tingle. Feeling at a loss, Sam used her last move. Her knee lifted quickly to his crotch, but, just as before, John sidestepped her while still keeping a hold on her wrist and twisted her around.

He was behind her now, holding her arm behind her back. Now the pain was in her shoulder and elbow as well.

"How long do you want to keep this up?" he said in her ear.

He was toying with her and she knew it. "You started it," she said stubbornly. "It doesn't matter what you think, John. I know where I belong. You'll just have to beat me up to stop me." She looked up at him over her shoulder, and found his eyes. Neither of them moved, and Sam couldn't think anymore.

"Mr. Reese?" Finch called down the stairs. "Are you two finished? We have a little boy whose life is in danger, in case you forgot."

John released Sam. He collected his gun and the magazine, and met Finch at the bottom of the stairs.

Sam shook the life back into her arm, wondering what any of that accomplished. She would have rather just continued shouting at him.

"Susan Gaylene drives a white, two thousand and one, Toyota Corolla. She got a parking ticket two days ago for leaving the car too long in a garage."

"Send me the plate number and the address." He was out the now broken door before Sam had the idea to try and trip him on his way out.


	9. Into the Fire

Sam followed Finch back upstairs. She took John's jacket off the coat rack and threw it on the floor again, making sure to tread on it when she entered the room.

The phone rang and Finch answered.

"You should also know," John's voice filled the room. "Elias is involved with this, somehow."

"He's the blackmailer," Finch spoke like he already knew.

"Unless his man is working on his own, but I doubt it."

"But it's a kidnapped kid," Sam said. "Why would he bother with that?"

"It certainly isn't his style," Finch agreed.

"That teacher, Gordon, does favors for him, it sounds like. They're asking for more money. Money that he doesn't have."

Sam began to pace the room as she thought. "That doesn't matter. We have to find Jamie."

John didn't answer right away. "I agree."

"Thank you," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "Elias. Why is he always involved?" she muttered to herself as she walked slowly around the office. "So this teacher, Miss Gaylene is living out of her car, right?"

"She has had no listed address for over a year," Finch confirmed.

"Okay, so let's think here." Sam's brain was tired, and her frustration with John was still beating on the door. But she set everything in the back of her mind as she focused on finding the little boy. "She couldn't have kept him in a shelter. Someone would have recognized him. She couldn't stay on the street with him for the same reason."

"Perhaps she found a vacant house that's up for sale somewhere and lives with him there," Finch suggested as he followed Sam's train of thought.

"There's a risk of people going in and out of there during the day," John said.

"Not unless it's an unfinished house – or a building under construction," Sam's eyes widened and she ran both hands through her hair as a fantastic realization entered her head. "John," she said breathlessly. "The reason no one saw anything when he was taken is because he never left the _school_!"

Both John and Finch were silent as they absorbed the revelation.

"Someone would have found him, Sam," John said skeptically.

"No, no, remember what Mr. Clement said? That building is at least a hundred years old, and there are always renovations going on somewhere in the building. She knew that she would end up losing her house, and the police probably searched it. What was she going to do, keep him in her car?"

"They searched the school as well, Sam."

"But what if there are places they didn't know about? Blocked stairways. Corridors that no one uses."

Finch began typing away at the computer. "I'm trying to find some blueprints or an interior map of the building."

"Finch, see if Miss Gaylene is teaching today," Sam said.

Finch clattered some more on the keyboard, hacking into the district data base. "She's scheduled to sub for a history teacher at the middle school in the district. She's not at the elementary school."

"She's not there. She must keep him so he can't leave while she's teaching during the day."

"Sam, that is a stretch," John said over the phone.

"It all fits!" Sam was nearly hysterical with her new epiphany. "No one saw him leave. They knew he was at the school that day – Finch! Did Miss Gaylene sub for one of the Kindergarten classes that day?"

"Already checked. She didn't have work that day."

"So she could have gotten into the school whenever she wanted, and just taken him."

"The question is, why has she decided to kill him?"

"It might not be her decision," John said. "The parking garage is a dead end. I'm going to the school."

"I'll meet you there! Harold, find that map," Sam grabbed her purse and was out the door.

"Miss Tudin!" Finch called after her.

She came back and stared expectantly at him.

"John is on his way over there. Aren't you forgetting something?"

* * *

Equipped with a new earpiece provided by Finch, and the silencer still on her gun, Sam raced to the school. It was before noon, and classes were still in session. She had to be careful. The last thing she needed was to be arrested for waving a gun around a school, looking for a kidnapped kid.

She entered the school and waited for Finch.

"If you're right, he wouldn't be kept on any of the floors that they use. According to this out of date schematic, there are sublevels to the building. They were used mostly for holding prisoners waiting for transfer after their indictments."

"When this was a courthouse," Sam whispered.

"Exactly. There are also rooms used for jurors, conference rooms. It seems like a lot of extra space."

"Do you see any entrances? I never noticed any doors or stairs going down from the first floor."

Sam walked down the corridor, doing her best to appear nonchalant. She adjusted her top, which suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and tried to look as normal as possible. Classes were currently underway, so the hallways were mercifully empty.

"It looks like there's an entrance in a storage closet in the gymnasium."

Sam continued down the main hallway, following the brightly painted signs. She reached the doors to the gymnasium and cringed as she entered. No one was there.

The current gym class must be outside enjoying the warmer spring weather. Sam scanned the gym and saw only one door that didn't lead into a hallway. It was painted red to match the décor, and was propped open with a traffic cone.

Sam opened the door, letting herself in. It definitely was for storage. Posters of famous athletes lined the walls with wheeled racks of any kind of ball you could think of in front of them. Other sports equipment was stacked in neat piles next to the racks. Sam searched for another door. One other door led into an office, most likely for the gym teacher. Sam couldn't see another.

She began moving the racks out of the way so she could get to the walls. Her hands moved over the posters, feeling for a seam, hinges, anything. She began knocking, listening for a hollow sound. On one wall, the sound was deeper than the rest, indicating more open space behind it.

A poster of some Olympic swimmer Sam had forgotten the name of hung on the wall. She pulled it off and set it aside. A very fine seam ran vertically along the wall. If Sam hadn't been looking for it, she wouldn't have noticed it. But there was no doorknob, no handle of any kind to pull the door open.

She pushed at it. It didn't budge. She tried digging her fingers into the seam, but there wasn't enough space for her to get any leverage.

"You might want to try this."

Sam twitched around so hard that she nearly gave herself whiplash. John stood there, holding a thin metal ruler in his hand.

"How long have you been standing there?" she snapped.

"Long enough to notice this in a pile of hockey sticks," he said.

Sam took it from him and wedged it into the crack. She slid it down until something clicked; the door latch. Without anything to hold it in place, the heavy door opened slowly, revealing a dark stairway.

John drew his weapon as did Sam. She hid her purse in a corner and they descended the stairs together.

* * *

"This is like something in a horror movie," Sam said as they went down the stairs. "The woman always goes first too."

It was dusty and difficult to see. The air smelled stale and moldy.

"There will be a hallway once you reach the landing," Finch said.

He was correct, of course. The hallway was nearly pitch dark. John turned on a hand held flashlight and shined it in front of them. They continued on. Sam wondered where there were other entrances to this place. There must have been a main one somewhere, because they passed a few plastic barriers, a table saw and other tools as they moved down the hallway. But those items were also dusty. It had been a while since anyone worked down here.

"Why would they stop renovations down here?" she asked.

"Budget cuts, probably," Finch replied. "It's the story of many lives, unfortunately."

This was the part of the building that still looked like a courthouse. The hallways were large, and there were a few conference rooms. Sam even believed she saw a judge's chambers as she passed.

"How could anyone live down here?" she whispered. "There's hardly any ventilation, no running water – "

"Sam," John said.

He'd stopped and pressed a finger to his lips. He jerked his weapon to the right. Sam looked; there was another hallway, and a pool of pale light spilled onto the floor from one of the rooms.

Holding her breath, Sam nodded, and followed John down the corridor, towards the light. He stopped at the edge of the doorway and peered in. An overhead lamp that looked like it had been brought in from upstairs was the only light in the place. It stood off to the side in the room.

John and Sam entered slowly. There were no windows, no other doors of any kind. There were only cubicles divided by stone walls. But the cubicles were open at the front. "Cell blocks," John muttered. "There used to be bars here."

Everything was covered in layers of dust and grime. John moved his flashlight to the parts of the room that were still shadowed from the lamplight. The circle of white light moved slowly until it went over something, a foot. John jerked it back and moved it up.

In the corner, sitting on an old wooden chair, was a small boy. His hair was long and curled around his ears. He was dirty and wore an old, dirty shirt and pants.

Sam gasped in horror and surprise, covering her mouth with her hand. Neither of them moved when they saw him, it was so unbelievable. The boy didn't move in response to the light. He simply sat, his head hanging over his chest.

"Jamie?" Sam asked, her voice echoed through the room.

"You found him?" Finch asked, sounding as surprised as they felt.

The boy didn't respond.

Sam tucked her gun in her pants and carefully moved forward, toward the boy and the chair.

"Can you hear me? Jamie?"

She reached him and squatted down in front of him. Seeing his face underneath the dirt, she could see it was the same boy. He was older, but it was definitely Jamie Coop.

"Jamie, my name is Sam. This is my friend John," she nodded at John who stood stalk still. She couldn't tell if he was still shocked or just on guard. "We came to find you."

Sam thought he was asleep until Jamie slowly lifted his head. She saw those familiar brown eyes. They were large in his gaunt face. She then noticed how thin he was. Through the thin shirt, she could easily count his ribs by sight.

"Jamie," Sam said again, hoping for a response.

"Mommy doesn't call me Jamie," he said hoarsely.

"What does she call you?"

"Baby," Jamie said simply.

"Your mommy," Sam looked sidelong at John. "Didn't she used to call you Jamie?"

"My old Mommy did."

Sam took a breath of the dusty air, trying to keep calm. "You're still Jamie," she said firmly. "I'm Sam."

"Sam," Jamie said.

"That's right," Sam smiled. "Your old mommy misses you very much. We can help you find her if you come with us. Will you come with us?"

Jamie shuddered, rattling the chair. "Mommy will be mad."

"Yes, she will be mad. But my friend John won't let her hurt you, I promise." Sam looked him over again and saw no restraint on him. He sat in the chair even though he could have gotten up and tried to escape at any time.

"Why are you sitting in the chair, Jamie? You could get up and walk around, maybe find a way out."

"Mommy will be mad," he repeated like a robot.

"She's conditioned him, somehow," Sam said to John. "He just stays where she puts him."

"Listen to me Jamie. Miss Gaylene is not your mommy. Your real mommy is worried about you and wants you to come home. We can take you home."

Jamie hesitated. He looked at John for the first time, then back at Sam. "Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart," Sam drew a cross over her chest with her finger.

"Sam, there's someone coming," John backed up to the door. He turned the lamp off and covered the flashlight with his hand.

"We have to go, Jamie. Come on." Sam opened her arms and Jamie slowly moved into them. He rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He was freezing to the touch.

Sam took off the denim jacket she was wearing and pulled it around him. Jamie automatically put his arms through the sleeves that were too long for him, and wrapped his arms around her again, clasping his hands behind her neck.

Sam stood up and lifted his legs around her waist. His boney legs cut into her, but it was a small price to pay. She held firmly onto his back.

"Now, Jamie, we might have to run, okay?"

Jamie nodded, his hair tickled her neck.

"I want you to hold on tight to me. Hold on as tight as you can. Even if I have to let go, you hold on as tight as you can, okay?"

"Okay," Jamie said, his voice muffled in her shirt.

Sam could barely see John's face in the darkness, but she stepped toward the door and heard the footsteps coming.

"_Hello_, Baby!" a bright, singsong voice broke the silence.

Jamie's grip tightened and his breathing was shallow and faster. Sam patted his back. "It's okay, Jamie."

"Finch?" John said under his breath.

"The police are on their way. It took some time to convince Carter, but she's coming," Finch reported.

"Why did you turn off your light?" The voice was closer. John's eyes reflected the little light there was. Sam saw him glance at her and signal for her to stay put. It was too much like a horror movie, Sam thought as the crazy person approached them. Fortunately, no horror movie ever had a character like John Reese written in.

"I brought you something to eat, Baby," the woman reached the doorway and John grabbed her.

She let out a scream that John quickly muffled. The plate of food clattered to the floor. John had dropped the flashlight, and Sam felt it hit her foot, she picked it up.

John held Miss Gaylene, his hand over her mouth. She was horrified. Crazy, but horrified. She stared at Sam and tears came to her eyes when she saw Jamie in her arms. It was like Sam was watching a completely different person from the one who was leading the line of Kindergarteners just a day before. She'd appeared so... normal.

"Let's go," He muttered, wrenching Miss Gaylene to her feet. He kept a firm grip on her as Sam led the way out of the room and back down the hallway.

They reached the hallway onto the main stairs, but Sam stopped. John nearly ran into her. She listened carefully. The door at the top of the stairs shut again.

"Go back," she hissed at John, waving him off.

She pointed the flashlight ahead, and they ran back down the hallway, past the cell block room.

"Show us another way out, Susan," John demanded.

Susan Gaylene was too distraught for words. She simply pointed down the hallway they were in.

They ran faster, hearing footsteps close behind them. Jamie let out a low moan and Sam hugged him tighter to her. "It's okay. I promise, Jamie," she said as they ran.

That corridor linked to another set of stairs and they ran up. The top of the staircase ended at a set of double doors. John pushed and shoved at them, but they were locked.

"Sam!" he hissed.

Sam reached behind her, Jamie holding onto her on his own, and tossed her weapon with the silencer to John.

He fired at the lock and burst through the door.

The light was bright and burned at their eyes. Sam blinked several times before she realized where they were. It was the cafeteria. It was empty, thank heavens.

John led the way past the tables towards the exit.

"You're leaving in such a hurry without saying goodbye?"

Sam recognized the voice immediately. John stopped in front of her and she slammed into him.

"Sorry," she said to Jamie and John. She peered around him and a gunman pointed a rifle at John's head. John and Sam backed away into the cafeteria. Sam looked at the clock high on the wall. It was nearly noon.

She turned and saw Elias with Scarface and a few others guarding the entrances to the cafeteria. They were trapped.

"Put the boy down, Sam," Elias said.

Jamie's grip strengthened and Sam believed that she would have put the barrel of that rifle in her mouth first before letting him go.

"Sam, do it now." Scarface pointed a handgun at her face.

"Do it, Sam," John muttered.

"Jamie, I'm sorry, but I'm going to put you down. But you stay right by me. You stay right here, got it? I won't let anything happen to you."

She felt the nod and his grip around her loosened. She lowered him slowly to the floor and he remained next to her, his arms wrapped around her waist. Sam rested her hand on his shoulder, making sure to keep at least some contact with him.

"I see that you figured out my little chase," Elias said with amusement.

"You planned to kill a little boy?" John asked.

"And here you are, yet again. It's like magic," Elias said triumphantly. "I only wanted one thing, John. I'm sure your little mistress has told you what it was by now. And I'll tell you what: I'm feeling in a giving mood today," he smiled. "If you give me what I want, I'll let all of you go. You can send the tragic teacher to jail or an asylum, whichever you prefer, and the lost boy can be happily reunited with his mother."

"This place is going to be flooding with children in less than ten minutes!" Sam said desperately. "The police are coming. You're going to be caught!"

"I really don't understand how you put up with her, John. She's so shrill," Elias shook his head. "And I think we have more than a moment to settle this, as I have paid the right people."

"What do you want?" Sam saw John also glance at the clock.

"Your source, John. It's all very simple if you just tell me."

Sam looked at John who met her eyes. She shook her head once and mouthed the word '_no'_.

John looked away and kept his eyes steadily on Elias. Sam could see him thinking, weighing the risks.

"It's a machine," he said flatly. "There is a machine the government has that tracks everybody across the country, looking for signs of… hostile activity before it happens. There are a few people who know how to access it and use it to their advantage, to predict murder."

Sam stared at John. That was the most ridiculous, half-cocked piece of crap story she'd ever heard! He didn't even make an effort to make it sound convincing. A _machine, _really! She would have believed that they used an ancient soothsayer before she believed that._  
_

Elias blinked and folded his hands. Then he laughed. "Amazing! And do you have access to this machine?"

"I don't, no," John said.

"It sounds so complex, John. I would have expected you to make up something simpler. I don't like being lied to." Elias' smiling expression turned stone serious in less than a second. "But, I think you'll thank me for this in the long run. It's better not to be tied down… to anything, no matter how much you value it." His eyes rested on Sam for a moment before he nodded to Scarface, who fired his weapon twice.

Sam was knocked backwards and fell on the floor. She gasped for breath from the astounding impact, hearing Jamie scream, and John shout her name as the room went out of focus.


	10. Second Chances

The alarms in the school went off. They were locking down because of the gun fire. Jamie draped his frail body over Sam, calling her name. Sam's eyes were glazed over and barely open. Red flooded through the wounds and soaked into her shirt.

Red was all he saw after Sam hit the floor. John's brain seemed to shut off, and he moved automatically to the man with the rifle. He disarmed him in two moves, and knocked him to the floor in one more. He turned, his body in front of Jamie, Susan and Sam, aimed, and fired four more rounds. Each of Elias' men went down one by one as they were drawing their weapons, leaving the mob boss standing alone as the doors to rooms slammed and locked around them.

John pointed the rifle at Elias, but he stopped. Elias backed away like a trapped rat. He ran to the kitchen, back down the passage way to the sublevel while John gave him the chance.

Susan had gone limp and went to her knees when Sam was shot. She curled up on herself, tears running down her cheeks.

John bent over Sam, his hand on her face. She was trying her best to console Jamie as she dealt with the pain. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'll be okay.

"John?" she squeaked. She found his hand. "Get Jamie out. Leave me here. I'll be okay. Just get him out."

"Don't talk, Sam," John looked at the wounds. She had taken both bullets in the chest. The injuries were strange, but he didn't have a chance to figure out why.

"Freeze! Get your hands up!"

The police and school security flooded the cafeteria from the other side.

"Go, John. Go!" Sam's eyes rolled back into her head and she said no more.

John put Jamie's hand in Sam's. "Stay with Sam. The police will help her," He waited until Jamie nodded. He squeezed their hands and ran, taking the rifle with him.

"John, what happened?" Finch asked desperately.

"Sam's dead," John said tonelessly as he picked the lock to one of the outer doors. "The police are with Jamie."

"Hold it!" Someone said behind him as he opened the door.

John burst through the door and ran.

* * *

By that evening, every news channel across the state had their top story sewn up in Jamie Coop's miraculous recovery, and return home after two years being held captive. The reports varied; some stated that he was found in the school, others reported that his captor grew careless, and Jamie was seen at the school but he hadn't been living there. Reports linking a New York mob to the kidnapping were quickly snuffed. Only one smaller, local NYC station reported Jamie's own story; he was saved by two strangers, a man and a woman. And the woman died trying to rescue him.

Susan Gaylene was arrested and placed under psychological observation. Charles Gordon Jr. was also arrested for lying to police, and assisting in a kidnapping.

Sam's death was never mentioned anywhere, which wasn't a surprise. John told Eva himself, hoping that somehow she'd know that it was Sam's choice in the end. He never believed it was the right one, but it was hers to make. Eva shouted him out of her house, blaming him and his way of life for the loss of her friend, and slammed the door in his face. He'd expected nothing else.

The funeral service was held five days later, almost in the exact spot where Sam had said goodbye to her own family last fall. Now, it was spring. The trees were flowering, and the sun was bright.

The small crowd gathered for the service sat huddled together under a tent, shaded from the warm sunlight. As Sam had no family left, both Eva and Leo said a few words about their dear friend. The service was short, and the crowd parted silently, sadly, leaving a dark, polished casket, standing alone on the green. Sam would be buried next to her parents and brother. It was only fitting.

John Reese approached the casket after the crowd had dispersed. The large arrangement of flowers on the lid waved in the breeze at him. He stood beneath the sun and said nothing.

"I didn't see you at the service." Finch was close by.

John looked to his right. His employer and friend stood next to him, facing the casket. He wore a dark, three piece suit, and the neck tie John remembered Sam admiring one day.

"I doubt I was welcome," John said gruffly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"To make it believable for one thing," Finch answered. "And, we all know that you would never have gone along with it."

"I'm surprised you did, Harold."

"I have my reasons and she had hers. Perhaps I'll let her explain it to you as she did me. It made much more sense at the time."

John shook his head. "I'm sure," he said sarcastically.

Finch glanced behind John and stepped away. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

John looked behind him and saw a woman in a black, knee length dress and heels. Her hair was swept up in a twist at the back of her head. She greeted Finch warmly and kissed him on the cheek before they parted.

The woman approached John. She pulled her sunglasses off and looked at the casket, then at him.

"Do you believe in life after death, John?" she asked.

"I'd like to," he answered simply, his eyes remaining on the casket. "Do you?"

"I have to," she replied. "Otherwise I'd never talk to my Mom again, and I just can't imagine that."

John couldn't think of who he'd like to speak to again. Thoughts like that brought too many things with them to the surface.

"I can always tell when you're mad, you know" she said.

"I'm not mad."

"You are restraining yourself from bodily throwing me across this cemetery as we speak."

John heard the smile in her voice without looking at her and fought the urge to smile at her joke. "That's not what I want to do."

"And what do you – "

Sam gasped with apprehension as John's arm went around her waist and he pulled her to him in an embrace. He closed his eyes, the scent of her hair filling him up. "Pull anything like that again, and I will be mad," he said quietly.

"It's partially your fault, you know. Telling Elias that crap about that machine," Sam said into his shoulder.

John smiled. "Sometimes the truth is the hardest to believe." He waited while Sam absorbed his meaning.

"What are you - ?"

"Finch let me figure it out on my own," John cut her off, changing the subject.

"Oh, well… you _did_ figure it out, didn't you?"

John looked down at her. Sam's hair had a reddish glisten in the sunlight. She smiled up at him, and he felt her fingers close to his, playing with his hand.

"After a little while, I did. There's one thing I don't get, though."

Sam raised her eyebrows and waited.

"Why the blood in the vest?"

"That was not my idea, and that obviously wasn't blood," Sam said with a wave of her hand. "Finch wanted it to be convincing." Sam looked at the casket again and sighed. "Eva always picks the best flowers. Her wedding was gorgeous." John took her hand and held it. "It's all so permanent, isn't it? No going back now."

"Now that you're dead? No. You can only get away with doing this once."

"It's kind of freeing in a way, though, a brand new life. Most people only get one. This is almost like a second chance at –"

"Sam," John's voice was serious. "Finch and I never chose this. We wouldn't have chosen this if we had the option."

"Every situation is different. Harold gave me the option, and I thought about it. It took me a short time to realize that I had already made this choice over and over again since we met."

"What do you mean?"

Sam put both of her hands around his and blinked away the coming moisture in her eyes. "I made the choice when I first trusted you with my life, when I killed that man in the cellar; I made it at my family's funeral; I made it when I danced with you, when I tried to protect you; I made it when I jumped into the river to get to you; and I made it when you made me so angry that I wanted to shoot you. John, I know you don't agree, but you're not a bad bet. So guess what, you're stuck with me."

John lowered his eyes, knowing what she really meant when she spoke like that. "What about Eva?"

"I'll miss her to death. But I know she'll be safe. As long as Samantha Tudin was alive, she'd be in danger. I wouldn't have been able to deal with that, John. She and Leo will be moving into my family's old house upstate, and their bank account will be much more… substantial," Sam grinned up at him. "Lionel and Harold helped me with the details. Getting out of the hospital was the biggest thing. That's something I never want to do again. They really don't let you go if you have something that looks like blood on your shirt," she added, sounding frustrated.

"It's still wrong, Sam. You could have – "

"I could have a dull, uneventful life, working for a moron at a coffee shop," Sam interrupted him. "It's wrong according to you, John. That's your opinion. I considered everything that this decision would affect, trust me."

John had no question about her considerations. He only wished that she truly realized what she'd done. "Where will you go?"

"Harold is also helping me with that," Sam explained. "He says that I need to pick a new name for myself so he can have the IDs made. I never thought I'd say anything like that." she laughed a little. "I have no idea what to settle on. Yours and Harold's names are so simple, yet normal and convincing, you know? Maybe I'll let you pick one for me."

John considered the idea. "Mine was chosen for me as well."

"Oh, well, I'll let you pick mine if you want. I'm at a loss."

"I'll have to think about it," John said.

They stood in silence for a moment or two, Sam's hands wrapped around his. He tried not to get used to the feeling it gave him. "I heard Jamie is adjusting very well to being back home," she said.

"He and his mother were here today. The woman named Sam helped save his life after all."

"Really? That's so sweet," Sam said, getting teary-eyed again. "I wish I could see him."

"There's very little chance of that now – of everything, of you having a family of your own," John looked at her hard when he said the words. It was a low blow, but he knew he'd cornered her.

Sam only blinked up at him. She lifted herself up on tip toe and lightly kissed his lips. Before he could respond, she'd pulled away again. "You are my family now. Like I said, you and Harold are stuck with me. Isn't it better anyway? You're not alone, John. There's still some normal left for you if you want it."

* * *

Note: It's not over just yet. One more chapter! Just FYI. :)


	11. Dare

The following weekend, Sam hauled the last box out of her old bedroom and added it to the stack in the now sparse living room. The U-Haul was waiting downstairs, and Harold had already given her the address to her new home. She'd asked him about rent, but he said not to worry about it. That in itself had her a little worried.

It was midday, and she was already tired. There was nothing for it but to start dragging the boxes downstairs. She'd worry later about the few pieces of furniture she owned. Perhaps she could enlist the help some of the neighbors in the building. Sure, she barely knew them, but people should help others, right?

Sam grabbed a box and turned to the door as it opened. She smiled broadly at John when he pushed the door all the way open, and who was also followed by Lionel, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't think you were coming. Harold said you had a job," Sam said, confused, setting the box down again.

"We just wrapped it up," John said, taking off his suit jacket. He unbuttoned the sleeves to his shirt and rolled them up to his elbows. "Grab a box, Lionel."

"How did he get you here?" Sam asked.

"He threatened to shoot me in the crotch," Lionel hunched over one of the boxes.

"John!" Sam looked at him, trying and failing to keep the amusement out of her expression.

"A significant spot," John winked at her and picked up a couple of boxes.

"Oh, you are the _best_! Lunch is definitely on me," Sam said.

"Beef steak," Lionel said.

"Lunch, Lionel, not a heart attack."

"Depends on the beef steak," Sam said, trying to control her laughter. "That sounds good anyway. What do you want to drink?"

"Beer," Lionel answered immediately as he strained under the weight of the box he'd hefted up.

John exchanged a withering look with Sam. She snorted. "That's fine." She grabbed onto Lionel's arm and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for helping. And I owe you a kiss anyway, remember?"

"See? She's nice," Lionel addressed John and jerked his head at Sam. "Why can't you be nice?"

"Are you asking for a kiss, Lionel? You just had to say so," John said as he walked out of the room.

Sam laughed and ran into her bedroom to begin dragging out the parts of her bed for them to take down.

The men came back up after a minute and John grabbed first onto the mattress to Sam's bed.

"Can you guys handle that down the stairs?" Sam asked, following them into the hallway as they hauled it.

"We're fine," John said with a grunt.

Sam held the door to the stairs open for them and closed it behind Lionel. She went back into her apartment to find her purse. She searched all around the living room, then the kitchen. When she was in her bedroom, she heard voices close by.

"Only couple of minutes, okay?" One of them said. "Take what you can find. Oh, how thoughtful. Looks like everything's all boxed up for us."

Sam recognized the voice and ran out into the living room. Two men were standing there, starting to open the boxes she'd just packed.

The one who spoke turned as she entered the room, and Sam had several reactions at once. She wanted to grab her gun, she also wanted to run away, or call for John, or the police even. But she didn't do anything. She stood there, staring.

"Kai?"

"Sam," Kai said, his eyes widening in shock. "I thought – they said you were dead."

"Who said?" Sam said, her voice growing in hostility. "What are you doing here?"

Kai approached her, and she backed away, wondering where her purse which also held her gun could be. Kai's friend had obviously not considered running into any obstacles. He stood stalk still behind a stack of boxes he was in the middle of opening.

"I'm not dead, so you and your friend can just leave now, please," Sam said, desperately trying to keep her voice firm.

"Your stuff is being sold. Did you know that?" Kai asked, taking another step towards her.

"Yes. Please go."

"No, Sam. I just came by to get a few things, then I'll be out of your hair," he smiled coldly.

"These are _my_ things!" Sam shouted. "The only thing I might still have of yours is your I'm With Stupid shirt."

Kai laughed. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that. But no, that's not what I'm looking for."

Sam studied him for a moment and she understood. "You're getting desperate, aren't you? That's the only reason you'd come back. They're after you now, aren't they?" Her eyes flicked to the empty doorway. John and Lionel should be back soon. Everything would be okay.

"No, Sammie," Kai said, stepping again. He knew she was scared, and Sam cursed herself for giving it away so blatantly. "I came back to get what I'm owed."

"What are you talking about?"

"So now you know nothing about sending your kung fu boyfriend after me?" Kai spat angrily. "I don't take threats very kindly, Sam."

"It's 'I don't take kindly _to _threats', you idiot. And I have no idea what you're talking about. My kung fu – _oh no_," Sam said under her breath as she realized who he was referring to.

"Coming back, isn't it?" Veins were popping out of Kai's neck. He was about to blow. "Now that you're here, just stay out of our way, and let me get what I need, okay?"

"What you need is to be strung up by your – "

Sam regretted speaking her mind before thinking first as Kai grabbed onto her.

"Kai!" his friend said.

Kai's large hand wrapped neatly around Sam's throat and he slammed her hard into the wall. "You owe me this," he said through gritted teeth. "Your new boyfriend smacked me around, so it's only fair," He slammed her hard again, knocking her head back. He lifted her up by her throat. Sam's toes barely touched the floor.

Sam choked in his grip. She tried to speak, but couldn't get the words out. He squeezed her throat and she gagged. She grabbed onto his wrist with both of her hands, trying to move his massive arm, but she wasn't strong enough.

"Let me get what I want, and you'll be okay. Deal?" Kai said softly, his face close to hers.

Sam nodded, her lips turning blue. Kai pulled his hand away, but slapped her hard across the face with the back of his hand. Sam stumbled, and fell into a stack of boxes, gasping for breath.

"Hey, what the hell?" It was Lionel's voice.

Sam looked up and saw John already behind Kai as he turned. They must have come in just as she fell. John struck hard, again and again. He was fast and powerful; the way he moved made Kai look like a lumbering ox. Kai's face was bloody before he hit the floor like a ton of bricks. Once he was down, John kicked him hard once more for good measure. He looked up, his eyes steely. "Get out," he said to Kai's friend. The man nodded and ran.

Lionel reached Sam first. He helped her up and held her steady as she tried regaining her breath. Her throat felt like it had been crushed. She wheezed and gasped, leaning on Lionel for support.

John looked down at Kai, his eyes hard and unfeeling. "You should have taken my warning more seriously," he said darkly.

Sam wheezed, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

"We should get her to the hospital," Lionel said. John's eyes snapped to her. Sam had never seen his face the way it was just then. His eyes were bright with an angry fire behind them, and his jaw was tight like a wound spring. He looked as close to crazy as she'd ever seen him.

She shook her head desperately. "No," she croaked. "No, it's getting better. Just give me a minute." She backed up against the wall and slid to down to the floor, where she sat and concentrated on breathing.

Lionel looked at John as he stepped over to Kai's semi-conscious body. "What are you going to do with him?"

John met Sam's eyes again. "Where's the rest of the packaging tape you were using?" he asked.

Sam pointed. "Bedroom," she wheezed.

John strode quickly out of the room, leaving Lionel staring down at Sam's very bloody and unfortunate ex boyfriend.

* * *

Long after that last trip with the last box into her new apartment – it was much too large in her opinion – Sam lie on her couch in her new living room with an ice pack on her throat. It felt nice and cool against the angry blue bruise Kai had left there. It was well into the evening. Sam could see the glow of street lights out the window.

She heard the front door open and close, and didn't bother to get up to see who it was.

"Sam?" John asked, unable to see where she was.

"Here," she waved her hand in the air over the back of the couch. Her voice was still scratchy, but it was much better than before.

John walked around the couch and looked down at her. He bent over and lifted the ice pack off of her throat. Sam heard him growl deep in his throat when he saw the bruise. He replaced the ice pack and Sam bent her knees, giving him room to sit on the couch.

"What did you do with him?"

"I don't know what you mean," John said.

Sam sat up and glared at him. "I saw you tape him up, John. What did you do with him? You didn't leave him in the truck, did you?"

"I just dropped him off somewhere," John said innocently.

"Where?"

"There are a few people looking for him, so I made him a little easier to find, let's put it that way."

Sam's jaw dropped. "You left him on the front porch of a loan shark, didn't you?"

"You said I could kick his teeth in if he came back," John said defensively.

"Yeah, but you totally cheated. He asked me about my 'kung fu boyfriend'. You are so _busted_," she said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"What makes you think it was me?"

"Oh, come on!" she raised her voice, and choked a little on the pain in her throat.

"That's why I went," John said. "He would have come back either way. I thought he'd be smart and take my first warning."

"He's not smart," Sam said plainly.

"No, he's not. And he didn't. So I took care of him."

"Wish I could have," Sam grumbled, gingerly touching her throat. "Maybe you could teach me some of that stuff, John. I don't always have my gun at hand, so it might be useful."

John eyed her for a moment, looking as though he was considering the idea. He didn't answer.

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Have you ever played Truth or Dare?"

"I don't think so," John said with amusement.

"Basically, I ask you the question, Truth or Dare? and you pick one. If you choose truth, I ask you a question that you have to answer honestly. If you choose dare, I come up with a crazy stunt you have to do, otherwise you're out of the game."

"Will it just be me playing this game?"

"No, it goes back and forth," Sam gestured in between them.

John smiled. "That's a very dangerous game, Sam. For the both of us."

"I'm running out of ways of getting straight answers out of you," Sam said. "But if you're too afraid to try it – "

John studied her further and nodded. "Truth," he said before she could ask.

"Really? I'm shocked," Sam lifted her eyebrows, and switched the ice pack from her throat to her jaw. She decided to start with something simple, something he'd already spoken of. "Okay, the machine that the government has to track everyone, does it really exist?"

"Yes," John answered.

"And you and Harold have access to it?"

John smiled. "It's your turn. Truth or Dare?"

Sam sat back a little; the expression on John's face led her to believe that he might have been right in the first place about starting this game. "Truth."

"When we finished moving your things today, just before we left, I saw you slip an envelope in the mail box when you didn't think I was looking." John's voice was level, but his eyes were locked on her. "What was that?"

Sam considered her answer carefully. "It was a letter."

"To whom?"

"Nuh-uh," Sam shook her head. "Your turn. Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Why did you kiss me that night in the hotel?" Sam blurted, surprising herself at her directness.

John looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "It was a good idea at the time."

"Because you weren't planning on seeing me again?"

"Truth or dare?" John said.

"Truth."

"Do you want a family?"

Sam hesitated. John's eyes were no longer on her face. They lowered to his hands in his lap. "You have to be honest, Sam," he reminded her.

"Not if I won't see you… or, or Harold again," she added anxiously. "Truth or dare?"

John looked up at her slowly, a hint of light behind his eyes and his small smile. "Dare," he said.

* * *

All right, here's the deal. I know what I said when I first started this thing, that I had no ideas for future stories. That was true... at the time. But, in light of the season finale last night (Holy crap! How awesome was that? I always _knew_ that John had a fantastic sense of humor buried down there somewhere. He made me giggle last night... a lot. "Wow. She's a lot prettier than Fusco.") that assessment is no longer true. :P

I actually came up with a new scenario while I was in the middle of writing this out. And, my main reason for writing fan fic in the first place is due to the lack of actual episodes to satisfy my craving - that's why I end up making up my own as it were. Now that we're on summer hiatus, I won't make any promises like the one I made earlier ever again.

In other words, this isn't the end for Sam. :) Thanks for reading and for your very generous reviews. You have no idea how much I love hearing your impressions of my writing! It's awesome.


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